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heart-of-the-morningstar · 4 months

Note

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing prompt #my writing #this was meant to be a cute short thing but i can never stop myself lmao #my signature is just posting goofy faces of Lucifer to remind everyone this is who we’re thirsting over

2K notes · View notes

mamayan · 8 months

Note

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—��,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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dante-mightdie · 3 months

Note

Tw p link !!!!

John price when u guys sleep in different rooms after an argument ✨😮‍💨https://x.com/sluttywh0r3/status/1665185188534419458?s=20

good lord i’ve been thinking about this video all day!!!

cw: dub-con but it’s nothing too sinister, swearing, slight somnophilia, p-in-v sex

john does not like it when you go to bed angry. john did not like you sleeping in the guest room. not one bit. you’re married. you should be in his bed. absolutely hates the idea of his pretty wife laying in the cold bed of the guest room, sniffling to herself as she recalls the earlier fight you both had

he spent hours tossing and turning, before he finally crept into the room where you sleep. feels his cock stir in his pajama pants when he sees your panties creeping out from the bottom of his your sleep shirt

spends a minutes caressing your puffy tear-stained cheeks and placing delicate kisses to your fluttering eyelids and lips before climbing into the bed behind you

so gentle about the way he slips your panties off and props your foot up on his thigh, playing with your clit and pressing breathy opened-mouthed kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders

pulls his boxers down just enough to hook the waistband under his heavy balls. drags his angry, weeping tip through your folds before sliding his cock into you with one swift thrust. the way your breath hitches in your slumber is enough to make him still completely, burying his face into the back of your neck to cover up the sounds of his heavy breathing

it’s not long before your breathing evens out again and john feels secure enough to begin dragging his cock in and out of you at a steady pace. not enough to disturb your sleep but enough to get john panting against your skin

one meaty hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread open for him whilst the other pushes your shirt up to your collarbone, revealing your tits to him

it’s not long before he feels you stir against the bed, one hand coming up to rub the sleep from your eyes. he feels the second of panic that rushes through your body when you finally realise there is someone in your bed and inside you

he wrangles you in his arms when you thrash and he feels you relax significantly once you realise it’s just your husband in your bed

“shhh, darling… relax, just relax…” he whispers, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “s’okay, it’s just me, lovely…”

one of his hands comes up to grip your throat, keeping you still so he can stuff himself back inside you after your squirming caused his cock to slip out of your sopping cunt

“jus’ sit still… I’ll take care of ya, girlie…” he grunts, the pace of his thrusts pick up. his heavy balls slap against you, making you moan out quietly

“john… no, stop… m’still mad at you…” you whine out in a sniffly voice, making his cock twitch inside you. he shushes you softly, smushing his lips against yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth

you moan against his lips pathetically, weakly kissing him back before pulling away to watch his cock slide in and out of you

“shhh, don’t think about that… just let your husband fuck ya better, yeah? attagirl…” he groans in your ear, pressing wet sloppy kisses to wherever his lips can reach

it’s not long before you give in, letting your head flop down again your pillow. your once sad expression now replaced with a hooded eyes and a dopey smile as your husband fucks into you like an animal

john doesn’t like it when you go to bed angry

#mw2 #cod mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #price #john price x reader #call of duty mw3 #mw2 x reader #cod mw3 #cod mwii

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medusas-graveyard · 1 year

Text

Fine line

Okay so we all know pre-reveal but already adopted Danny would question his whole life when he finds out about the vigilante life the Waynes are in but may I introduce you to:

✨Absolutely horrified Danny.✨

Basically he finds out that his seemingly normal family isn't so normal after all and due to the nature of the JL never responding to Amity calls he assumed that they were working with the government. This led to the realization that the family probably knows who he is (they really don't. They just think that he was a meta that doesn't want to deal with the crime-related life bs so they never brought it up) and they're probably in the midst of handing him to the GIW.

He's terrified, because god dammit he shouldn't have trusted a rich guy but he doesn't really have time to contemplate on his next move. Next thing you know Danny's holding a modified ecto gun that is now fatal to humans against Bruce.

The family is alert and ready to pounce on him, but they realized that Danny was shaking too much and his breathing was too ragged. His eyes are glossy and he's biting his lip like he's trying so hard to not drop the gun on his adoptive dad. Danny was having a panic attack.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #batpham #I'm spoiling y'all too much #Danny: I have a gun and i don't care if i love you as my dad. I WILL shoot.#Bruce: Danny pls #Danny to Jason: WHY ARE YOU IN ON THIS #Jason: IN ON WHAT.#dc x dp

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driverlando · 6 days

Text

✧.* TWO BEST FRIENDS IN A ROOM

synopsis - you and charles are two bestfriends, but over the years you become more

a/n: my first request! A Charles leclerc x singer!reader smau. hope you enjoy, pls reblog and follow :)

charles_leclerc

liked by yourinstagram, charlesfan16 and 1,314,741 others

charles_leclerc happy birthday @yourusername sorry I can’t make it this year. drinks are on me the next time we meet ❤️

view all 2,084 comments

charlesfan16 friendship goals

↳ y/nfan69 I NEED them to be more

f1forever they’ve been there for eachother since the beginning of their careers 🥹

oscarpiastri why don’t I ever get a birthday post on instagram

↳ y/nfan29 you’re just not her

↳ landonorris neither do I :(

f1forever34 oh to have drinks with the charles leclerc

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 1,114,162 others

yourusername thank you once again coachella, you were amazing!

📸 by the adorable @charles_leclerc (p.s thanks for the drinks 🥂)

view all 3,567 comments

yourfan16 ADORABLE??!?!?

↳ leclercforever let’s not make this something into something it isn’t

↳ espresso78 I NEED THEM TO BE A COUPLE

charles_leclerc anytime 🥂

y/nbestsinger THEY HAD THEIR DRINK!! 🥹

landonorris I’m the adorable one, not him

↳ charles_leclerc someone’s jealous

arianagrande pretty girl ✨

—

IS LOVE IN THE AIR? CHARLES LECLERC AND CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND Y/N SPARK ROMANCE RUMOURS

In a twist that has sent fans into a frenzy, Formula 1 star Charles Leclerc and singer Y/N, who have been best friends since childhood, were spotted holding hands during a leisurely stroll in Monaco yesterday. The sighting has ignited rumors that the pair’s relationship has blossomed into something more than just friendship.

The duo was seen walking along the picturesque Port Hercule, laughing and appearing very much at ease in each other’s company. Both were dressed casually, with Charles sporting a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans, while Y/N looked effortlessly chic in a miu miu white skirt and blue top. But it wasn’t their fashion choices that caught the public’s eye—it was the undeniable chemistry and the intimate gesture of holding hands.

While the public speculation has been rampant, sources close to Charles and Y/N have confirmed to Daily Mail that the two are indeed in a romantic relationship. “Charles and Y/N have always been very close, but over the past few months, their bond has deepened,” a source revealed. “They’ve realized that their connection is more than just platonic, and they’re exploring this new chapter together.”

Another insider added, “They’ve been inseparable lately. It’s been a natural progression from friendship to romance. They’re very happy and are taking things one step at a time.”

A Friendship Turned Romance

Charles and Y/N’s story is the stuff of fairy tales. The pair grew up in Monaco, attending the same school and sharing numerous childhood memories. Despite their demanding careers—Charles in the high-octane world of Formula 1 racing and Y/N in the glitzy music industry—they have always made time for each other. Their close bond has often been a topic of admiration among their fans, who have long speculated about a potential romantic link.

What’s Next for the New Couple?

As Charles gears up for the upcoming Grand Prix and Y/N prepares for her next album release, the couple is reportedly keen to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. However, given their high-profile careers, that may be easier said than done.

Despite the challenges that may come with dating in the spotlight, it’s clear that Charles and Y/N are ready to navigate their new relationship together. Whether it’s supporting each other at races and concerts or enjoying quiet moments in Monaco, this celebrity pairing is already proving to be one of the most talked-about romances of the year.

Stay tuned for more updates on Charles Leclerc and Y/N’s blossoming romance as we follow this beautiful love story unfold!

—

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,749,888 others

charles_leclerc Two bestfriend in a room…

view all 5,678 comments

landonorris they will kiss 😌

↳ f1fans67 😭😭😭

charlesfan56 CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING???

↳ y/nforever2 IM SO HAPPY

formulaonefan3 couple goals 🥹

[liked by charles_leclerc and yourinstagram]

yourusername my muse 🫶

[liked by charles_leclerc]

↳ y/nthebestsinger so happy for you bestie

↳ charlesfan1009 they’re so cute 😭😭

↳ oscarpiastri I thought that was me :(

yourbestfriend fave couple ❤️

taylorswift love you two!

#formula one scenarios #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one smau

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Note

Hiii helloooo. Back with another request that popped into my brain if it interests you enough to write it into existence ✨ so Az lives in an apartment/condo in velaris that he rents from an old high fae lady who owns the building and she also lives there with her granddaughter (YN/reader/OC) who is def his mate but they dance around it for her sake (and her poor old grandmother’s lol) since she’s still young for a fae. Oh and idk why but I imagine Az having a cat that reader takes care of while he’s on missions. Once a week, without fail, Az has breakfast with the old lady and her granddaughter. If he’s going on an extended mission, he always lets them know he won’t make it and he tells them in person or sends his shadows with the message. One time, he gets severely injured before he’s able to send word that he won’t make it to breakfast. The old lady sends her granddaughter to the townhouse to look for Az and feyre or cassian answers the door and is completely baffled that a girl and her cat are asking around for the spymaster. Like “well he didn’t come for breakfast today and he ALWAYS comes for breakfast and grandma was worried and so was (insert cute cat name) and she wouldn’t stop yowling so I had to bring her to look for him too” reader is def an awkwardly endearing rambler. (And if the cat is buddies with his shadows that would be totally adorable too 🥹) and then maybe it ends off with her (gently) smacking azriel upside the head while he’s on his sickbed healing because how dare he not tell her and her grandma that he was going to get injured and miss their weekly breakfast 😡 feel free to change anything up if you end up writing it!!

The Breakfast Club

Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat.

Warnings - mentions of injury, stray kitten mentioned, fluff

💙Peep the Azriel Masterlist here💙

To say you were nervous as you approached the High Lord's townhouse was an understatement.

In the 4 all too short and unexpected years of knowing Azriel, the last of which had been spent as much more than just friends, he had never missed breakfast with you and your grandmother. And if he had, it had come with a note or prior notice.

He had not shown up today, breaking your grandma's heart as she had prepared his favorites. It had set worry into your heart, though. Worry you masked as the two of you ate in deafening silence.

You two had hidden the growing romance so well. You didn't want to ruin the illusion now and risk your grandmother becoming protective over your youth and, of course, his reputation and profession.

You held his black kitten closer to you, kissing her little white paws as she mewed softly. She had protested you leaving his apartment to look for him without her, wanting to live up to her name as you tucked her into the hooded jacket you had custom-made to carry the kitten.

The poor baby probably missed her owner, her constant companion, more than she could truly express. You were used to caring for her when he was gone, but he normally always left one or two shadows for her to play with, and today, they were gone.

You'd had a whole explanation planned, rehearsing it quietly on the walk here over and over, but it went out the window the second you opened your mouth. You rushed through the words, stumbling over them as you looked down and away from him. "EverysundayAzrielhasbreakfastwithmygrandmaandIbuthedidn'tshowuptodayandInjstwantedtoknow-"

You shook the feeling of dread building in your stomach and knocked. You would be lying if you said you were not scared when the High Lord himself answered his own door studying you like a textbook. "What can I help you with?"

Rhysand held a hand up to you, scenting the faint smell of cedar and night air that clung to you and smirking before masking it. "Breathe. Start over slower." He tilted your head up to him. "And look at me when you speak to me. You are not a mouse."

You took two deep breaths, cradling Dective Mittens closer. "My grandmother owns the apartment complex Azriel lives in," the High Lord's lip twitched, the final confirmation he needed. "And every Sunday, he had breakfast with us. The only time he doesn't, he lets us know with a shadow or a note or verbally before he leaves. He did not come today, and he was supposed to be back 3 days ago. I just wanted to know if you've heard from him?"

"You're the female he's been missing family brunch for." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Rhysand kicked off the door frame. "Come inside. He's here. He's hurt, but he will be fine." He glared towards the small kitten in your arms. "And where did that come from?"

"Detective Mittens?" He nodded, continuing to glare. "Azriel's cat? You didn't know he had a cat? She got upset when I tried to leave her in his apartment, so I brought her with me so she'd stop crying and yowling."

Rhys pinched his noses, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "And who named Detective Mittens?"

"Azriel? It was Detective Mittens or Princess Buttercup. She isn't a Buttercup."

His eyes were watering from laughter, shoulders fully shaking as he led you further into the house and up the stairs. He held his arms out, nodding towards the cat as he stepped in front of a room. "Stay behind me," the High lord entered with a casual grace, stopping a conversation between two deep voices. Azriel's and one you didn't know.

The black collar with a small piece of Azriel's siphon was barely visible among Mittens's long black fur. She finally freed herself, leaping into the bed and walking to lay on Azriel's chest. "How did you get here, baby?"

Mittens was immediately squirming and clawing, desperate to get to her owner and get the cuddles she had been missing. "Did you go outside and pick up a random cat, Rhysie?" A large illyrian male, Cassian, you realized, sat staring with a brow up. "Or did you steal someone's cat? It has a collar."

"Some pretty little thing was at the door. Dropped the cat off and then ran away."

A shadow had already found you, twirling into your hand and ripping you towards Azriel the best it could by itself. Soon, two more joined, then three more, then your whole arm was swallowed in darkness, pulling you to the side of the bed Cassian was not occupying. "Y/n," it came out as soft surprise, happiness underlying the tone. "Angel, what are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday." The answer hit him, and his head fell back, eyes shutting as Cassian and Rhys shared a look.

He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Cassian's arms, guiding him back down as he winced in pain. "Angel, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Don't apologize for getting hurt," Cassian said gently. The general looked at you. "Breakfast girl?" You nodded. "One. Breakfast was mine and Azriel's thing first until you showed up," a playful glare went your way. "Two. We dropped the ball. He was hurt. Bad. And we knew he was seeing someone, but it's been kept so secret by a certain spymaster that we couldn't contact you."

"Should have just spoken to the complex owner," Rhys muttered under his breath.

You nodded. "And, will you be okay?"

Azriel was focused in Mittens, scratching her ears as she rolled over, exposing the fur of her tummy and waiting. The three of you stared in silence, watching as he cooed and baby spoke to her. Watching as a few tears slipped. "Missed you so much, my little baby. Aw, look at that belly. Y/n been doing the best job keeping it full and happy, huh?"

Rhys and Cassian both hid their smiles, the High Lord motioning for the general to leave the room. You sat on the bed, taking his free hand in yours, bringing it to your cheek and holding it there. "I was so worried."

Mittens moved to the window as if she suspected you two needed room, allowing you two alone time before she'd be back to cover Azriel in her love and warmth.

He wanted to sit up, to hold you close, but every slight movement of his core had nerves screaming in hot agony. He'd never mock Cass for being a bitch while hid guts were hanging out ever again. He settled for moving his hand to your neck, pulling you close and resting your foreheads together. "Im so sorry, y/n," he kissed your nose, eyes closing as yours did. "I got distracted, and it happened so fast I couldn't get word out."

Your hands came to rest on his bandaged chest. "What happened? You never get distracted." He smiled, a rare beautiful thong he hid from everyone but you.

"You accidently tugged the bond when you and Mittens were playing, and all I could think of was getting home to be with you two. Did you catch that stray?" He changed the subject, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

A small orange tabby had been roaming around the apartments. Short little fur "doing nothing," in Azriel's words, to protect it from the Night chill. Azriel has been smitten with it since it allowed him to feed him and get a few scratched in before a shop owner scared it away.

That was over a month ago, and you two had been playing a slow game of seduction with the kitten, praying to the cat distribution powers that they'd allow this little one to trust you both the way Mittens grew to.

"I did. He's in my apartment. Him and Mittens get along really well." As of hearing her name, a mass of black fur launched herself onto the bed, curling up on Azriel's leg that was closet to you and purring. "I named him Investigator Whiskers."

You watched Azriel melt, groaning with a smile at the matching name. You could feel through that string his growing happiness as the same family you two had accidentally made grew, too. "I love you," he whispered softly with no sign of the ice Rhys had so loudly accused him of having in his heart.

"I love you, too. I'm glad you're going to be okay." Rhys and Cassian came back in to you two resting your foreheads against each other again, eyes shut, heart beats synced in time.

It made it even more comical to them when Azriel thought nothing of your hand moving up his arm, rest in his hair before you pulled away, and smacked him. "Ow! Y/n! What the fuck!"

"That," you smirked as you caught his hand that came to playfully tug your hair, "is for worrying my grandma. She made your favorites! You broke her heart! She thinks you hate us!"

"I was hurt!"

"Excuses, excuses!" He pulled you into him, not caring if the good of you had an audience and kissed you deeply. "Mmmm, forgiven," you muttered when he pulled away.

Azriel sighed. "Rhys, can you go get grandma. I think we need to tell her some things. And have lunch."

"Lunch sounds nice," Cassian said as he took his seat and glared at you. "Breakfast theif."

"Boyfriend theif," you shot back.

The room turned into you and Cassian having a playful argument as Azriel watched, fingers scratching behind soft velvety ears. He looked at Rhys, eyes warm with joy and happiness as Rhys looked between you and Cassian, who had fallen together like a puzzle. I like her, Rhys said into his mind. Keep her.

That's the plan, Azriel replied.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

@elle4404

Azriel Taglist-

A/n-

Picture of my and baby daddy's kitten to pay the cat tax gods 💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send requests #send ideas #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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mariasont · 2 days

Text

I Want It In Ink - S.R

a/n: the tattoo in the pic obviously isn’t what the reader has but just imagine that ✨placement✨

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer finds your secret tattoo… with his initials

warnings: suggestive content, alcohol consumption, reader has a tat with spencers initials kinda delulu but also real, secret relationship, established relationship

wc: 0.7k

You were blissfully unaware of the chaos you had caused Spencer. There you stood, not doing anything particularly special, yet you were making his head spin. It became glaringly clear why fraternizing within the office was frowned upon; concentrating on work proved to be a Herculean task when his gaze incessantly sought you out.

Currently, you were stretching upwards, fingertips grazing the spine of a book on a higher shelf, your shirt hitching up, revealing a sliver of your hip and stomach. But what captured his attention was not the skin—it was the ink he had never seen before. He had prided himself on seeing every inch of your body through an eidetic lens, yet here was a price of you he had somehow missed.

Spencer squinted, realizing he might need a new prescription for his contacts, but even with his questionable eyesight he was able to see just what was tattooed into your perfect skin.

Maybe it was temporary. But no, the subtle reddish halo encircling it and the inflammation most definitely indicated healing, and that it was, in fact, permanent.

Spencer stood so quickly that his mug nearly toppled over, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the edge. He closed the distance between you in seconds, his hand covering the tattooed area as if he could soak up the ink into his own hand, not that he’d necessarily want to.

He was startled by the reaction he had to it. The swirling warmth in his chest, the burning of his ears, the slight tightening of his pants.

“Christ,” he hissed, close enough for the word to brush against your ear. He stood at your side, affecting an interest in the printed words on the shelves as his palm stayed glued to your hip. “When did you get that?”

“Get what?” you asked, your focus elsewhere as you made another attempt at the book.

He intercepted, plucking it from the shelf and pressing it into your hands, his fingers discreetly pulling your shirt down just a fraction in the process.

You were surely going to send him into cardiac arrest.

Spencer casted a quick look over his shoulder, thanking the gods that the team was engrossed in a lively discussion about Morgan’s dating habits. “The sizable S.R on your hip.”

“Oh, that…,” you mumbled, peering down as though it were a mere afterthought, oblivious to the way his heart leapt out of his chest just to think about it. “I was kind of drunk, and—hey, Penelope, do you remember—,”

Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, your words turning into a muted hum against his palm as he steered you into the break room.

“Do you realize the statistical improbability of keeping our relationship a secret if you announce my initials are on you to the whole team?”

You laugh, easing his hand away from your mouth, but not releasing it entirely, letting your entwined hands dangle at your sides.

"What? It's not like it says property of Dr. Reid."

"It might as well."

"That can be my next one." He didn’t hate the thought of that.

You were teasing him now and he could feel the smile creeping into his face. However, it quickly waned as he saw the unease on yours. Your voice was much quieter as you spoke, “are you mad?”

I could never be mad at you.

"No, I-well, it was just surprised is all," he clarified, his fingers instinctively adjusting his glasses before releasing they weren’t there and moving to his nose instead. He squeezed his hand. “I like it.”

"You like it?"

"I like it."

He wasn't lying. He liked it. A lot. Once the initial shock wore off he realized just how much he liked it. Did he mention he liked it?

His fingers moved from his nose, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the outline of the tattoo, already having it etched in memory. You winced.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just sore. Nothing I can't handle," you said, your shoulders rising in a dismissive shrug.

Your nose wrinkled slightly, and your gaze met his from beneath your lashes.

"Atta girl."

You licked your lips, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth as you shoved his shoulder just enough to make him clamp down harder on your hip.

"I can give you a better look at it, later tonight?"

He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the door as his hand traveled from yours to your neck, squeezing slightly as a warning.

"Looking forward to it."

He gave your hip a small pat before walking back out the door. He had a tattoo appointment to make.

#Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid #dr Spencer Reid #spencer reid x bau reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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nicksolemnlyswears · 6 months

Text

WAYS TO DESTRESS

summary: after a long day, all coriolanus wants to do is blow some steam off. nothing will stop him from getting what he wants…not even your sleepy state

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, somnophilia, dub non-con, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy spanking, belly bulge (?), LISTEN I KNOW ITS UNLIKELY BUT LET ME BE UNHINGED, a bit rough nothing too crazy, get your holy water though, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please)

a/n: this came to me the moment i opened my eyes this morning. pure filth. i shouldn't be proud but i am. goes to show how much coriolanus is plaguing my thoughts day and night. my new little hyperfixation. a new villain to add to my collection <3

PT. 2

requests open ✨

All Coriolanus feels is anger. It's been pumping through his veins throughout most of the day, almost causing him to lose his composure at all the wrong places. He can never afford to fuck up. He already did it once, and second chances are nonexistent in the Capitol.

He owes a lot to Dr. Gaul. After all, she saw the value in Coriolanus. She saw right through him and his faux kindness and unearthed his true wickedness. He simply needed a nudge in the right direction.

While working for with her is an honor, it is hardly easy. Like all aspects of his life, he's had to adapt to how she runs her lab. Coriolanus is hardly a follower; he's a leader, but as long as he remains under the tutelage of Dr. Gaul, he will have to follow her orders. Which means he has to talk when spoken to and perform how she expects him to.

There are days when it all becomes too much. His pride rises to the surface, forcing him to stifle it as best as he can before he does something he regrets.

He has to think of the scrutinizing gaze of his peers waiting for him to fail. As much as they pretend to be his friend, they want him to make a mistake so they can rise to the occasion. He won't allow that.

His apartment is silent when he steps in. The lavish decor is obscured by the lack of illumination. It's to be expected, seeing it's well past midnight.

Leaving his coat by the door, Coriolanus walks towards the bedroom. He needs to destress now, or he'll carry all his anger and frustration on his shoulders for the rest of the week. He can't have that. He can't lose control and look bad in front of Dr. Gaul and the others.

In the master bedroom, he finds you lying on the soft mattress, tangled in the silky bedsheets. He watches your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths, your pouty lips slightly ajar. It's a shame he's going to disturb your sleep, but he needs to let off some steam. That's one of the numerous reasons he has his pretty little girlfriend.

Coriolanus unbuttons the red waistcoat and removes his shoes, leaving them in the armchair. As he approaches your side of the bed, he notices the bright orange bottle on the nightstand and your book thrown haphazardly on the floor.

It's rare for you to take sleep aid medication because you hate how they knock you out. You only take them when you've had a particularly rough day. It seems Coriolanus is not alone in this. Today has been bad for both you and him.

Still, his plan remains the same. Coriolanus leans over you, kissing your forehead gingerly before his lips continue to trail down to kiss your cheek and lips. You don't stir with the soft touches.

Coriolanus darkly chuckles. It's not often he gets to do this. He'll take it as a treat for his patience throughout the day. He'd say the universe is working in his favor if he believed in such silly things.

Having you so pliable and willing in his hands excites him to no end. Lying on the bed, he digs his head on your shoulder, leaving marks for you to find in the morning. It spurs him on to hear little gasps falling from your lips.

"Beautiful and all mine," he mutters into the silent room as he lowers down the thin straps of your night dress to reveal your chest.

Coriolanus takes his time with your body. Even while asleep, it responds to his touch. He sucks and squeezes on your breasts harshly, biting down on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He's not as gentle this time around compared to other times in the past. Then, you were simply asleep; now, you're completely doped out. He will miss your whines and the way you berate him.

Coriolanus continues down your body until he settles between your legs. "Fuck, darling," he audible groans when he lifts up your nighty to find a patch on your panties. Who would've thought you'd be as responsive to him while asleep.

He gives into his urges as he presses his nose against your center, smelling your arousal and licking up the wet fabric with his tongue. He only parts for a moment as he roughly slides the thin fabric off.

With you like this, there is no reason to tease. He doesn't have to kiss your thighs or hold himself back. Coriolanus can truly delve into what he wants without a spectacle.

It's why he buries his tongue into your wet cunt as soon as he has the chance. He holds your limp thighs on his shoulders as he presses himself against you, his blue eyes closing in ecstasy at the taste.

Soft noises- moans- come from above him as you slightly stir in your drug-induced sleep. While Coriolanus suck on your pearl of nerves, he wonders what you're dreaming about and if he's the protagonist as well.

His hips roll onto the mattress underneath, soothing the ache on his cock. He could go straight to fucking you but wants this to last. He needs to keep his mind busy, and eating you out is the answer.

Unconsciously, you grind your cunt on his tongue, chasing your release. Coriolanus smiles at this and rewards you with fucking you with his tongue. He's determined to make you cum all over it.

"Oh," he hears you whine when his nose rubs on your sensitive clit. He knows you're close. He feels it in the way your thighs are suddenly clenching around him.

There is no doubt in his mind you're still asleep. If you were awake, you'd be gripping his hair like a vice and calling his name for everyone to hear. You'd be begging him to fuck you silly.

Coriolanus laps up your juices like a starving man when you cum. Despite living in poverty, he never felt the need to act in such a way until he tasted you for the first time. He treats his sweet little girlfriend's cunt like a delicacy.

He stops himself before he almost makes you cum again as he slurps and sucks on your cunt. From up close, he can see the way your clit twitches under the pleasure. He leaves a bruise that will turn purple by morning on the inside of your thigh. It'll be a telltale sign he was there, devouring you while you soundly slept. A reminder you're his to use whenever he pleases.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Coriolanus returns to your sleeping body. He pumps his cock in his fist as he looks at all the bruises and marks he left behind, and you'll have to hide because you can't have him seem like a pervert in front of his classmates.

Kneeling on the bed, he wraps your legs around his hips. He teases your wet cunt with the fat head of his cock, nudging over your clit repeatedly. He continues this until his cock is slick with your juices. As an extra, he spits down on your cunt, spreading his saliva over you. Not because you need lubrication but because he likes the sight of him on you in every which way.

No matter how many times Coriolanus has fucked you throughout your two years of being together, he's always had trouble pushing his cock in. He has to take a deep breath when he bottoms out as your cunt tries to choke him out. It's one of his favorite things about you, a constant reminder of the day he took your innocence.

It's only when he begins rocking his hips into you that you give any indication of waking up.

"What?" You whine as panic settles into you. Your brain isn't working properly. You're hazy and confused. Not knowing where you are, you get scared, and your heart races.

Coriolanus holds your hands as you begin struggling. As he leans down to talk to you, he pins you down, leaving you impaled with his cock. He immensely enjoys the struggle but can't have you screaming out in panic.

"It's just me, darling," he coo's in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your face. It works as your heart begins settling down.

"Coryo?" You sniff with tears in your eyes as your panic is quickly swept away. You try to speak, but the pills leave your tongue heavy and your brain foggy.

"Yes, your Coryo," he responds, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You've stopped struggling and spread your legs once again, just how he likes it. He even feels you clenching down purposefully around Coriolanus' cock. You're no saint; you enjoy making it hard for him even in your drugged-out state.

"Relax, darling. Go back to sleep," he hushes you, softly rocking into you.

Your eyes are already closed as he utters the words. You have no choice in the matter. Granted, now you sleep calmer, knowing it's Coryo touching you and making you feel food.

Coriolanus calls your name once, twice, and there is no response. You're back with the sandman, peacefully asleep. He takes it as a sign to keep fucking you.

Kneeling back on the bed, Coriolanus brings up your thighs to touch your chest. Your pretty cunt is on full display, showcasing the hues of pink and glistening fluids that shine under the lowlights of the bedroom.

Coriolanus licks the pads on his fingers before they smack down on your center. The only way it'll look even better is if it had that familiar twinge of red. He aims for the center, straight at your pearl, and smacks his hand down several times.

It manages to wake you again, eyes hooded with sleep, staring at him and complaints falling from your lips. Each time the 'smack' reverberates and you flinch, he soothes the sting, spreading the clear strings of arousal that drip from your hole.

Only when your cunt is flushed red and your clit is puffed out of its fleshy covering, does he pull you down on his cock. He fucks in and out of you mercilessly, addicted to the way your tight walls hug his cock even as he pulls out.

He glances towards your face and notes you're back to sleep. If it were up to him, you'd take the pills more often just so he could find you waiting for him asleep, naked on the bed. A real-life doll of his own.

The sound of skin slapping and his desperate moans and grunts fill the room, along with some of your smaller ones. He doesn't tend to be so vocal; he prefers listening to you beg for him, but with no one to hear him, he lets it all out.

Coriolanus places a hand on your lower tummy, pressing down to feel himself through your walls. It's an erotic thing to feel his cock slipping in and out, reaching the deepest parts of you.

He slows the pace of his thrusting, opting to go harder and deeper, just where he can make out the bump on your pelvis of his cock head.

The pressure Coryo is causing doesn't go unnoticed by you. Groggily, you open your eyes to find him with his head dipped down, whispering profanities to himself, a pretty sheen of sweat covering his fair skin.

"Mmm, Co-coryo," you moan, catching his attention.

With a glint in his eyes, he grabs your hand, placing it where you can feel it too, his fingers lacing through yours as he holds it down, "Feel this? No one will ever get you to feel like I do, darling. I'm going to ruin you for all others. Not like I'll let you leave anyways."

It's never crossed your mind to leave Coriolanus. Not for a second. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew he was it, and the ring on your finger is a promise of that. It's why you let him use you as he pleases.

You babble out a response as the darkness consumes you once more. By morning, you'll barely remember a thing as a side effect of the pills, but Coryo won't let you forget.

The mixture of your relaxed state, Coriolanus' hand pressing down on you, and the angle of his thrusts allow for something that hasn't happened before. Something he'll enjoy for the years to come.

As he viciously snaps his hips to chase his release, you wiggle under him. There are words on your heavy tongue neither can make out, a warning.

"Shh," Coriolanus quiets you down, focusing on the way you're milking his cock for all that his worth.

He's in for a surprise when a particularly angled thrust causes you to squirt around him. A stream of your juices covering his cock and abdomen. Although he falters for a moment, he quickly pulls out and rubs at your clit, causing a smaller stream to leak out of you.

His night has become a hundred times better. His eyes widen in wonder as his brain creates new ways to have you and make you do it again. "This is going to be fun."

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember what happened, but you know something did. It's in the way your cunt aches and how thick cum runs down your leg when you get up.

Brief, blurry memories surface as you shower. Truly, you didn't care. If anything, you're upset you missed out on the fun and can't remember the pleasure. Ultimately, you trust Coriolanus and that he won't hurt you.

You feel well-rested as you dress and make breakfast for the two of you. There is an undeniable ache in your cunt, but that's always welcomed. Your problems from yesterday are only a quiet hum in a dark corner of your brain.

"My love," you softly call out to Coriolanus, touching his naked shoulder.

"Good morning," he says with his eyes closed, although there is an undeniable grin on his lips. All the stress he felt yesterday has dissipated, leaving a pleasant feeling in his chest.

"Good morning to you, too," you giggle as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss. There is a tangy taste attached to them that you recognize well. "Had a good night, did you?"

"I certainly did. Do you remember anything?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. The falling bedsheets reveal his toned chest and stomach. Gently, you grab the tray with food and place it on his lap.

"Barely," you scoff, "It's a shame." You technically haven't had sex with Coriolanus in two long weeks. His stunt from last night did nothing to satiate you or your mind that keeps picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions.

Coriolanus hums as he takes a bite of toast. You know him well enough to know he's amused that you don't remember and that he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You prod, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. He's making you work for it. Coryo loves his games, after all.

"Coryo," you speak his name with a warning.

He takes his time, sipping on the glass placed on the tray. "I just…I didn't know you could squirt," he reveals cheekily, stabbing his fork on a piece of fruit.

"What? That's because I don't," you say, taken aback.

A crease forms between your eyebrows. You and Coryo are not ashamed to talk about sex. It took you by surprise at first because he always presents himself so elegantly and no-nonsense. Behind the scenes, though, when he's with you, he's open to discussing everything he wishes to try and his likes and dislikes.

You, in return, have been the same. Admitting that you've never been able to squirt and might never be able to. It's been a topic of conversation numerous times, seeing as it's something Coryo has always been curious about.

"Yes, you do. Last night, you squirted all over my cock and my fingers and my tongue," he boasts with a smirk as he remembers all the times he made you cum after that.

"I did?"

"You were such a good girl for me, darling," Coriolanus responds, putting the tray of food to the side and cupping your face, "All you had to do was relax."

"Hard to do when you're edging me for hours," you roll your eyes at him. Edging you is just one of the fun ways he tortures you.

"Don't be a spoilsport," he frowns, gripping your face harder before planting another kiss on your lips.

"It's not fair. I can't remember anything," you softly murmur. It's a real damn shame you won't remember the first time you squirt or the face Coryo made at the realization.

"Poor thing. I can show you how to do it again. I practiced last night a couple of times," he whispers in your ear, kissing down to your pulse point, "But I can't right now, or I'll be late."

"Huh?" You dumbly respond, enthralled by his words, imagining all the pleasure he'll give you.

"Thanks for breakfast," Coriolanus says, standing from the bed and heading into the bathroom butt-naked.

You watch after him lustfully and angrily, forced to continue your morning as if nothing happened.

In less than an hour, Coriolanus is ready to return to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He has to check for any progress in his experiment before heading to the university for his classes.

He sits you on the bed before he leaves, though, to show you something 'important.' "I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing the crown of your head and turning on the TV.

The screen shows you lying on your back, whining helplessly as Coryo slips two fingers into your cunt rapidly. The rings on his fingers and the palm of his hand glisten with your sticky juices.

He did not lie about your new ability as you watch your hole leak clear liquid. The Coryo on the screen, who had been encouraging you with lewd words, eagerly attaches his mouth to catch it all. When he pulls back, his chin is dripping with your release.

Watching yourself in that fucked out state and Coryo behaving so obscenely gets your silk panties wet. Glancing at the clock, you note you have 30 minutes till you have to be at the door.

In no time, you're spread out on the bed with your hand under your university skirt, panties pushed to the side fucking two fingers into your cunt. Your eyes are focused entirely on the screen, rewatching the clip.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!

part two for coryo making her squirt while she's actually conscious?

#fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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madelynraemunson · 2 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 1 month

Text

Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

————

Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?”

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

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