Same.

Can I request headcannons of you surprise Papa IV on tour???

Absolutely you can, my dear!

Some hints at NSFW content. 18+, MDNI!

You had always loved watching Papa on stage, but knowing you couldn't accompany him on the full American leg of the Re-Imperatour was hard to swallow

Usually you were by his side day in day out, but you were needed in the Ministry now your position in the clergy has been elevated

When Sister Imperator gave you the green light to join him for a few dates though, you swore her to silence. This had to be a surprise.

You stood by the sound desk, watching on proudly just far enough away that he wouldn't spot you in the sea of adoring faces

You laughed, you cried, you sang along with him from your hiding place.

Halfway through his last song, you made your way backstage with the help of Jesus (Kevin) shielding you from running into anybody else.

"Wait here, maybe hide somewhere..." he smirks

You do. You hide behind the door to the large dressing room the band shared.

You hear him before you see him, his shoes clacking on the floor and when he enters the room, back to you, he notices absolutely nothing amiss.

In fact, it was Phantom who saw you first - and all he could do was jump up and down on the spot, clapping like an excited puppy dog.

"What are you doing, Phantom?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

Phantom points behind him excitedly, but he still doesn't turn around. The other ghouls do though, and Swiss makes a noise of surprise.

"I think he's pointing at me, amore..."

Copia stiffens, his head turning before he allows his body to. In the corner of his eye he sees you, and faster than you've ever seen him move, he clambers over furniture to reach you.

He trips over the couch in the middle of the room, but you say nothing. Better not to acknowledge it...

You practically jump into his arms, toppling the pair of you over. Copia was already unsteady enough on his feet, you may as well have rugby tackled him.

He made no move to get up from the floor, hugging you close to him.

"Tesoro, how?"

"His unholiness works in mysterious ways..."

The ghouls pile up on top of you both, wanting their fair share of affection.

"Get off, you oafs! Merda!"

Back at his hotel, he cannot keep his hands off you. His arms are wrapping around your waist the moment you stepped into the room.

"Do you even capire how much I have missed you, cara?" his voice is deep in your ear, sultry.

"Probably as much as I missed you, I'm sure," you flirt back.

You can feel how much he's missed you.

"We must make up for lost time, sì?"

Oh, and you do. Nevermind that he needed his rest for the next ritual tomorrow. He would just have to be exhausted, because there was absolutely NO WAY he wasn't spending ever second of tonight wrapped up in you.

this is crazy amazing !!

Don't you forget about dying Don't you forget about your friend death Don't you forget that you will die

In love with this ^^^

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

this was the single most sexiest scrumptious smut fic i have ever had the pleasure of reading

October 14th

Orgasm Denial, Mary Goore x Reader

Previous Day | Next Day

Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Orgasm denial; Mary’s a sadist wbk; established relationship; all of this is consensual; naked woman, clothed man; face-slapping; praise kink; degradation kink (is it really written by me if it doesn’t have at least one of these?); fingering; no lube; cunnilingus; dacrophilia; use of sex toys; dry humping; biting; pain kink; vaginal sex; piv sex; unprotected sex; choking; squirting;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mary liked to make it hurt but the hurt was always so good you would forgive it every single time. He did things to you that you never thought you’d enjoy and opened up a whole different side of yourself you didn’t know lay dormant. Of course, you weren’t innocent like most people assumed, you did have a dark side. But Mary somehow managed to take that dark side and twist it until it had become darker and hungrier than before. And you loved every second of it.

Outside of the bedroom, Mary was the most beautiful human in the world. He was sweet, kind, caring, attentive, somewhat a golden retriever. Between the sheets, he was evil, downright demonic. And tonight was no exception. Apparently he’d gotten into a fight with one of his bandmates, and you were going to pay the price for it. He’d sent you a text before leaving his friend’s place: you better be naked with your legs spread by the time I get home or else. Or else what? Remember the safe word?

Lemon.

Good.

That was the last you heard from him. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you completely undressed and did as he asked. You knew what would happen if you were caught slacking, and given the mood he was in, you didn’t really want to risk it. The last time that happened, you couldn’t sit down for an entire week - because it wasn’t just your ass he beat. The guilt he felt afterwards was crazy and you had to keep reminding him that you wanted it.

You were scrolling on your phone, laying on the bed with your whole body on display when you heard the front door slam shut. Immediately, you threw your phone across the room and put your hands above your head, exactly how he liked. Not even three seconds later, the bedroom door swung open. Mary’s expression was dark, and he was filled with such a rage you rarely saw. He was scary when he was angry - the kindest people usually were. You felt arousal flood your cunt at the sight of him.

“Finally,” he said, “someone who does as I ask.” He placed his guitar on its stand before turning back to you, his eyes roaming the entirety of your body until they stopped on your exposed centre. “I half expected I’d have to come back and punish you. I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, quietly.

He moved to the side of the bed and sat next to you, cupping your cheek in a moment of worrying calm. “For what, my angel?” He asked softly. “For being an obedient slut for me? For letting me find you with your legs spread like a fucking whore?” The same hand that was gently touching your face disappeared, only to strike your cheek with enough force to sting, but not enough to leave a mark. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

His other hand moved down your body and immediately began playing with your clit - he didn’t bother gathering any wetness from your hole, at least to begin with. His middle finger ran circles around it, and despite the friction being enough to start a fire, it felt good. You bit your lip at the sensation, trying not to let out any moans without permission. Mary just laughed and pulled it out from between your teeth. “No, baby. I want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear me fuck you dumb tonight. Hide those pretty moans from me and I’ll make you suffer, got it?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.”

You felt his index and ring fingers slide inside of you, again without any additional lubrication beside your own wetness. The stretch wasn’t too painful, more uncomfortable, but he didn’t give you any time to think about it - instead he began hitting your g-spot over and over again, putting his entire wrist and hand into the roughness of his work and immediately hitting you with intense pleasure. The more he moved, the more wetness got onto his hands and the better it felt. But things really felt better when his second hand came into play, when he used his finger to play with your clit. The look of concentration on his face and the way he bit his lip was enough to make you almost blow right there, but you hadn’t gotten the permission to cum yet, and you knew that cumming without permission would have landed you in serious trouble. Though, Mary could feel how tight you were getting, how needy you were when you bucked your hips to chase that feeling.

“Are you close?” He asked, his voice teasing and bordering on condescension.

“Yes!”

“And what do we say when we’re close?”

“C-can I cum?”

“Can you cum… what?”

“Please! Can I cum please.”

“Good girl.”

You could feel it creeping up on you. It felt so fucking good. His masterful hands brought you so close you could almost taste it. Yes! Yes! Right there. Right there!

He pulled his hands away, his fingers and thumb covered in your slick. You watched him as he admired the shine you left on him, pulling his fingers apart and watching the string snap in between them. All the while you felt that orgasm ebbing away. You clearly looked dejected, and this made him laugh when he saw the expression you wore. “You were a good girl for asking, but I still didn’t give you permission, did I? Let’s go again, shall we?”

His hands went right back in to the exact position he was in beforehand. This time, however, he’d moved down the bed and was sat in between your spread legs, his tongue replacing his other hand on your clit. The same middle and ring finger that he used before, he used again, but this time he added his index finger to stretch you a little more, once again not bothering to slick it up and making you wince at the burn.

Mary would sometimes lick your clit, but he knew the real pleasure you experienced came from him sucking on it. He suctioned his mouth around your pebble and began to suck hard, stealing your breath as he did it. Your hands almost moved from your spot above your head because you were so desperate to touch him. You needed to at this point. “P-please, Mary.”

“Please what?”

“Let me t-touch you!”

“Aw,” he cooed, “is the pleasure too much for my little angel, hm? Does she need to pull on my hair?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, then.”

As soon as he dove back in, your hands flew down to his hair, grateful for the permission. You were always overly touchy during sex - the desperate need for closeness and affection too much for your body to handle, and your hands always took on a mind of their own. Mary loved it. He loved the way you pulled on his hair when he ate you out, how you cupped both of his cheeks when you kissed him while he was deep inside you, how your nails would scratch down his back when he hit that sweet spot, how your hands would always clutch onto his thighs or hips when his cock was down your throat. The constant need to be as physically close to him as possible made him feel loved and wanted. And so he would only begrudge your touch as a punishment.

Your hands tangled in his hair, the strands a little harder than usual because of the styling gel he used, but still you pulled at the roots. You heard him groan in response, no doubt growing harder in his pants the tighter you pulled. The harder you pulled, the faster his fingers moved and the harder he sucked. Again, you were so close, and you announced it only to have him pull all the way back again, completely remove all his touches. You whined and pouted.

“Now, now, angel.” He scolded. He held your chin between his thumb and index finger, swiping the tip of his thumb over your pouted lip. “Don’t do that. Don’t brat out on me now or there will be consequences. Take what I give you.”

“I wanna cum so badly.” You said. Your throat was tight from the disappointment, and you could feel tears begin to brew.

“Poor baby. Suffering so much. I know what could make it better. Close your eyes.”

You hesitated for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. But once he made it very clear he wasn’t moving until you closed your eyes, you obliged. You felt the bed shift beneath him as he reached over you, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against your soft, naked thigh. The bedside drawer opened slowly so as not to immediately alert you to what he was doing, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was reaching for one of the toys you kept in there. You didn’t hear it close, nor did you hear him grab anything. Instead, you felt something big and bulbous sit at your clit before it sprang to life at the flick of a button. Your wand. You didn’t even hear him plug it into the wall. Even on its lowest setting it was torturous enough for you to scream out, both in surprise and sensitivity. Your eyes opened entirely and you saw him kneeling between your legs, wand held tightly in his hand and a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you writhe and attempt to escape from the feeling.

“You like that?” He asked. When you didn’t answer him, he turned the vibrations up a little more and pressed the wand further into you, applying more pressure to the area and intensifying the feelings. “Fucking answer me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Yes! I like it!”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Have I fucked you brain dead already, hm? I haven’t even touched you with my cock yet and you’re already fucked up. You should see yourself right now - you look so fucking pathetic.” He laughed at your whimpers and the way your hips were moving at the sound of him being so fucking vile. It always turned you on to hear him be an asshole in the bedroom, given the polar opposite personality he displayed every other day. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean any of the things he was telling you, but he always said it with such conviction, especially in the moment you believed him - and it felt amazing.

Mary lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, making it parallel to his body. The back of your thigh was resting over the top of his incredibly hard cock, that was trapped still underneath the layers of cotton and denim. His composure always made you feel like he wasn’t quite as affected as you were by all this. If it wasn’t for the blown out irises of his eyes and the way he was now rubbing himself up against you, you’d think he wasn’t bothered at all. But he took his pleasure from you as he tortured your body, humping the back of your thick thigh as if he were desperate for relief. The look of you, red-faced, sweaty and desperately wailing like a bitch in heat had him far more affected than you realised, and he needed to get it out of his system one way or another. Right now, your thigh was the closest thing he could use.

“M-Mary, I’m gonna c-cum!”

He removed all contact again, even holding your ankle to get your thigh away from his body, denying himself pleasure as he denied you. He waited, wordlessly, for you both to calm down, before he attached the wand to you again, but this time two times more powerful than before. You screamed at the feeling and your hand immediately went to the wrist that was holding the vibrator, nails digging into the white skin and leaving red scratch marks. He went back to humping the back of your thigh, with a little more vigour given the loudness of your moaning. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside you, to spear you on his thick cock and take his own pleasure out of you. He couldn’t wait to make you cum, to shatter your entire world around you and make you think only of him as you tried to breathe. He’d been thinking about it all day. With every frustration he felt he was going to deny you an orgasm. Three so far. Another two to go.

You felt his lips on your calf, kissing the skin there until one particularly hard thrust against your thigh had him groaning and sinking his teeth into you.

“Cumming!”

He pulled away again before you had chance to. You were so close that time. You would have taken any punishment he dished out if it meant you could have cum there and then. But he stopped you before you had chance to tip over the edge and you screamed in frustration, punching the bed beneath you. The tears you shed at the beginning of the session were nothing compared to the tears you shed now. You watched through blurred vision as Mary’s eyes lit up at the sight of you crying in frustration. He turned the vibrator off and threw it to the side, pulling himself out of his confines and lining himself up to your entrance.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. I fucking love it when I make you cry. You’re always so pretty. Gets me so fucking hard.” The last sentence he said through gritted teeth and directly into your ear, his body lying down on top of you and trapping you between himself and the mattress beneath you. He gave you a chaste kiss to your lips, ignoring the tears you were shedding, before pushing himself all the way in, stretching you out even more than before. The tongue that had been licking your cunt earlier was now licking away the tears you shed, and a groan escaped his lips when the head of his cock kissed your cervix as his tongue registered the saltiness.

He thrust gently at first. He may have been acting like a monster but he definitely wasn’t one, even in his anger. While he thrust in and out of you shallowly and tentatively, his lips ran down your cheeks, across your jaw and down to your neck, where he licked, kissed and sucked at a sensitive spot of yours. “I fucking love this tight cunt.” He commented, his voice muffled by your skin. He pulled out and slammed back into you. “I love the noises you make when I fuck you.” Pulled out again and slammed back in. “I love hurting you and making you remember who this pussy belongs to.” Pulled out. Slammed in.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him as close as possible. The feel of his loose, grey vest softly dragging against your very erect nipples only added to the heightened sensitivity of your body making you cry out every time they rubbed against you. His jeans bit into your bikini line and thighs as he slammed into you, hitting your cervix every. Single. Time. Fuck it hurt. It hurt so fucking good.

He picked up the pace and the roughness, but he took this opportunity to attach his lips to yours, knowing how desperate for affection you’d become now. You were still crying - partly out of frustration for your almost orgasms, but also because of just how good he felt. Mary kept groaning and grunting into the kiss, his own voice coming out involuntarily from how good you wrapped around him.

He broke the kiss and sat up onto his knees, still thrusting away inside of you, his pace never faltering. “Fuck!” He grunted as he watched your body jiggle with the force of him. He always loved how your body moved,how you ricocheted off every thrust. He looked down at where you both were connected and saw a string of white around the base of his cock where you’d creamed all over him. “Fucking Hell!” He cried out. “Look at the state of you! This slutty pussy creaming all over me. Does it feel that fucking good?”

“Yes! Feels so good, Mary! You fill me so good.”

“Let the neighbours know who’s filling you this well, angel.”

“You are!”

“Say my name.”

You moaned at one of his thrusts. “Mary!”

“Again.” He slapped your thigh.

“Fuck! Mary!”

“What a good whore for me.”

He reached over to the neglected vibrator and turned it back on, setting the intensity back up to where it was the last time he used it. You visibly winced. “Mary, no!”

“Do you need to use the safe word?”

You shook your head in response.

“Then you’re gonna fucking take it, aren’t you?”

He placed the vibrator over your clit again and continued to fuck you as hard as he could. His grey vest shirt was now dark in most places from the sweat that coincided with the exertion. The sight of him wet and determined had your cunt tightening around him, earning you an appreciative, “fucking slut.” Then, with no warning, the vibrator’s intensity was turned up again, causing you to scream out loud and tears to start falling again. The stimulation bordered on painful, teetering on the edge of delicious and unbearable. You didn’t think he’d ever let you cum - that he’d keep you dancing the line until he finished and that he’d leave you. The thought of it was hot, of course, but by this point you were exhausted. Tired of being brought to the precipice but never quite falling over it. Mary watched your reactions intensely, drool practically slipping from his mouth. You were getting closer and closer by the second.

“Mary, I’m gonna cum.”

This time, he didn’t move the vibrator away. Instead he kept the speed and pressure exactly the same. You could feel it building and building, your entire body tingling in anticipation. He was finally going to let you cum. You were going to cum. You were so fucking close. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

And then he moved the vibrator away.

“No!” You screamed. “Mary, you piece of shit! You fucking asshole! Let me cum, please!” You moved your hand down and began rubbing at your clit working yourself desperately to release. But you didn’t get much time as his free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “I fucking hate you!” You didn’t. Not really. But in this moment you couldn’t help it. You began thrashing against him, trying to fight against his strength but now he was putting his full weight onto you and you were having trouble winning this fight. He let go of the vibrator and slapped your face again, this time a little harder and timed with a particularly hard thrust.

“You wanna fucking fight me? You little bitch. Do you want me to tie you to the fucking bed and keep edging you all night, hm? Acting like a bitch in heat. So desperate to cum. So fucking embarrassing.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher. His free hand now came to your throat and began squeezing at the sides. Your breath didn’t escape you, but he was restricting the blood flow. You felt like your eyes were going to burst any second. “I should punish you for that. Remind you your place.”

“I’m sorry!” You said quietly. “Mary, please.”

He bent down and gave you another kiss, his hand still restricting your throat. When the kiss ended, he released you from his grasp and picked the vibrator up, turning it onto its highest setting. “You wanna fucking cum? That’s fine. Cum whenever you want.”

He placed it to your clit and had you screaming at the intensity, more tears falling from your eyes and wracked sobs shaking your entire body along with his insane thrusts. At this point you were practically screaming through it: babbling incoherently, screaming his name, expletives, anything just to take the intensity away and relieve some of the tension. His other hand that was once restraining yours now rest at your hip and allowed him some leverage to continue to rail you into the mattress. He was exhausted, you could see it from the look in his eyes. You wondered how many times during this whole ordeal he almost came too.

One of your own hands moved to the one on the vibrator, and you grabbed hold of his index and ring fingers. He let you, wanting nothing more to lock hands with you and provide you the comfort you were craving. But he was so focused now on getting you both to orgasm he would let that slip today.

“Mary, I’m close! Please.”

“It’s okay, angel.” His voice was soft now. Gentle. He wasn’t the same, angry, crazy man who was ramming into you just moments ago. “Cum for me. I’ll talk you through it. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay?” You nodded. “Such a good girl for me, hey? Feel so fucking good around my cock. I got you, angel. Let go. Cum for me.”

And you did. Oh hells, did you cum. All five of the orgasms you missed now came charging through you at full speed, freezing every muscle in your body and stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes glazed over and for a second went black, the violence of your orgasm now taking all of your senses for you and numbing your brain until all you became was nerve endings reaching climax. No noises were made, no thoughts were thought, no breaths were taken. It wasn’t until eons later when you felt Mary’s hand tapping your cheek you were brought back down from wherever the fuck you’d gone. His voice faded back into focus, finally reaching your ears.

“Hey. Hey, angel. Come on, come back to me.”

You blinked. “Mary?”

“Hi, baby. Bear with me a little longer, I’m almost there, okay?”

You couldn’t say anything, instead you just nodded. You felt him enter you again, unsure when he pulled out completely, and after a few intense and oversensitive thrusts, you felt him still and cum inside you. His own orgasm wasn’t quite as intense as yours, but it still nearly wiped him out. He lay on top of you for a few seconds, his own body unresponsive to his wants, but once he had regained his own strengths, he gave you a chaste kiss and headed to the bathroom. He always made an effort to clean you up a bit, even if it was only a brief wipe down, it was enough. When he came back, you looked at the state of him. His black jeans even blacker around his crotch and thighs, and it looked like he’d pissed himself.

“What happened?” You asked weakly.

The smile that Mary returned made your heart skip a beat. “You came so hard I was forcibly ejected from your cunt.” He said climbing back onto the bed. “And you squirted everywhere. We’re going to have to change the sheets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. I wanna make you do it again.”

“Not tonight, love. I’m tired.”

Mary laughed. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He placed the wash cloth on the bedside table and lay down next to you again, scooping you up and holding you tightly, allowing you to bury your head in his bare chest now that his shirt had been removed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You replied, placing a little kiss over his heart.

I'm here!! I literally just stumbled across this and I have never related more to a post dude! do you listen to radiohead??? trying so hard to motivate myself to write

trying to motivate myself to be a little more active here, i want to discover some new writeblrs to follow!! feel free to reach out if you wanna!

i'm particularly interested if you...

🎧 write adult fiction, especially literary fiction, horror (gothic or otherwise), gothic romance, fantasy, or really anything with a gritty/emotional feel

🎧 like any bands from the 90s grunge scene (or 80s hard rock) (i can and will yap for days)

🎧 like vampires, pirates, or cowboys

🎧 are a fellow college student (we can struggle together!!)

even if we don't have any of this in common, i'd love to chat anyway! hopefully this finds some folks <3

hi mae! i’ve recently become obsessed with herbal teas and i noticed you have mentioned chamomile and jasmine tea in your fics lol. i am wondering if you would be interested in writing a remus or poly!marauders fic with an american reader who loves herbal teas and they kinda tease her about it (in a loving way of course)? i love your fics and i hope you have a lovely day whenever you read this <3

I love herbal teas! I fully support this obsession honey. Thank you for requesting!

cw: british slander, i love y'all but i'm besmirching your brand <3 (based largely on my own experiences lol, so perhaps not fully accurate)

Remus Lupin x american!reader ♡ 614 words

“This is so disappointing,” you sigh at the sight of Remus’ cabinet. 

“What?” he asks from the couch. 

“You told me you had tea.” 

“I do have tea.” 

“No, you only have this.” You take the box of Yorkshire Tea out of the cabinet, brandishing it where Remus can see. “This shit is nasty. Rubbish, as your folk say.” 

“Oh,” he laughs, “so you sail all the way across the ocean, take our teas with you, denounce our government, and then come back here to criticize, is that it?” 

You look at him darkly. “This is what the Boston tea party was really about. I get it now.” 

Remus beckons you toward the couch. You go, abandoning the boiling kettle since apparently there’s no point in searching the kitchen for anything good to drink. It’s only once you sit down on the couch and he takes your hand into his lap that you realize your mistake. 

Remus has a mollifying effect on you. It’s tragic, really. All it takes is a look, a shift in his tone, a small touch like this, and you’re pliant and boneless for him. 

“What sort of teas do you prefer?” he asks you softly, tracing the lines of your palm.

“I usually keep a variety,” you tell him, matching his tone. “Like cinnamon, or passionflower, or rooibos…have you heard of any of those?” 

Remus smiles, slow and sweet. “I have. Would you like whipped cream and sprinkles on those as well?” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. You try to take your hand back, but Remus holds fast (you don’t make it hard for him), grinning at you. 

“That is so not fair. Just because y’all like your tea bland—”

“Say that one more time for me? Who all?” 

“—doesn’t mean my tastes are somehow unrefined.” You fix him with a hard stare, though your smile is untamable. “You’re being posh.”

Remus looks amused. “Never been accused of that one before,” he says. 

“Have you ever tried jasmine tea with a little bit of sweet creamer in it?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Remus, you’re really missing out.” 

“Alright.” He stands, taking your hand with him and giving it a tug when you don’t follow. “C’mon, up.” 

“Where are we going?”

“To make you a cuppa.” 

You giggle. “I can’t take you seriously when you call it that.” 

“Once you stop saying dude, we can talk about my diction.” 

“So mean,” you tsk, letting him pull you over in front of the kitchen counter. He pours the hot water from the kettle into a mug, placing a tea bag in it. 

“We’ll get this drinkable for you, love, don’t worry,” Remus murmurs, waiting until the tea is a deep brown before going to the fridge. He pours in heaps of milk and sugar, stirring with a look of mild distaste in his expression. “Alright, try.” 

You take the mug off the counter warily, blowing on it before putting it to your lips. 

You hum, and Remus lifts an eyebrow. 

“It’s…better.” 

“I’ve done my best,” he chuckles, taking it from you. “I’ve thrown all my principles and better sense out the window, and it’s still not up to your standards, hm?” 

“No, it’s not bad.” You steal the mug back, taking another sip and smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth experimentally. “It’ll do.” 

Remus gives you an indulgent look. “I’m sure we can find you some jasmine tea if that’s what you want,” he offers. 

You shrug. “I was just at the grocery store, and I didn’t see any.” 

He tilts his head skyward, blowing out a long-suffering breath. “I think you mean the grocery, sweetheart.”

Bucky Barnes in the new Thunderbolts Special Look.

this is so sweet i'm so cozy

Hey!!! I just finished reading song of Achilles and I have been crying for the better part of the last hour while reading, hence in serious need of some Bucky comfort. So how about college or lumberjack Bucky (cuz they’re my favorites) who don’t really understand the whole fuzz over books but still holding his girl while she sobs her chest out out about a book (you can change the book of you want), hot tears down her face, ugly crying yknow?

It’s okay if you don’t want to :)) Have a great day 💕💕💕

Pairing: lumberjack!bucky x reader (can be read separately from undisclosed, but also a little reference to it)

A/n: Okay sooo this was so sweet and I had to write a drabble for it!! All this angst I've been writing needs some comfort! :)

~~~

He hears the crying first. 

It’s a terrible sound that constricts his chest each time it meets his ears. Bucky would like to consider himself partially responsible for your tears becoming a rare occurrence, so when he hears them, he experiences an array of emotions—fear, panic, a twisted sort of heartbreak. 

At the front door of his home, Bucky strains his ears to confirm what he’s already dreading. Because maybe you weren’t crying. Maybe you were sick? That wasn’t much better, but at least it was a more concrete issue. 

When he hears the tissue box and the loud meow from Alpine—the closest thing to concern he’d ever heard from a cat—Bucky doesn’t even take his coat off before he’s barreling into your bedroom. 

You startle, puffy eyes darting up to him as he takes up space in the small room. 

And he’s devastated. You hadn’t looked like that in a long time, all tear-stained cheeks and frazzled hair. Bucky considers the multitude of reasons you could be so upset, but then decides it doesn't matter. Not when you’re looking at him like that. 

“Oh, honey,” he coos. His socks make soft sounds on the carpet as he walks over to you, but the action only sends more tears down your face. Bucky could collapse. “Sweetheart, what happened?” 

You don’t say much at first, opting to bury your face into his chest the second he makes contact with the bed. It’s too warm in here for the amount of clothes he’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t really care. You keep crying—Bucky keeps running his fingers through your hair. 

Each sob that leaves your lips sounds more broken than the last, breaking Bucky down bit by bit. He wants to fix this, make it better, but Bucky has never been good with words. He’d been trying, for you. He will try now. 

“Tell me what happened, sweet girl?” he mumbles into the skin of your temple, lips hesitant to leave your skin. He was always better with physical communication. He was also the best at loving you like this. 

Your breathing gets choppy as you try to calm down. Shallow puffs of air meet the stitching of his sweater, and he rocks you as a way to coax a more steady pattern into your lungs. Even though he was wrought with panic, you were okay. Bucky had you, so you were okay. 

“He—he died, Buck,” you eventually choke out. “He died and then there was no—there was nothing—” your words cut off again as more tears soak his chest. 

“Who?” he stresses, although his tone doesn’t give that away. “Who, honey? Someone you know?” 

“No,” you sob. The sound knocks the air from Bucky’s lungs. 

Taking inventory in his head, that means all of his friends are safe, all of your friends. It means your awful family is alive as well, and while that doesn't matter much to him, at least he knows it isn’t the source of your strife. But the pain in your voice, the way you were limp against him and fighting for air. 

Bucky couldn’t understand. 

“Tell me who. What has you so sad, hm?” he tries, voice dropping into an even gentler tone. 

You dig your fingers into Bucky’s jacket, pulling away after a moment. Bucky reaches for you, trying to chase your figure because he wasn’t done trying to make this better, he needs to make you better. But then you slap something into his lap and he’s confused again. 

“Them,” you all but sob, turning back into the material of his jacket. 

Bucky wraps an arm around your shoulders as he inspects the book on his thighs. He’s still lost, but your crying has morphed into sniffles so he asks, “What was that, sweet girl?” 

He’s packing it on with the endearments, but seeing you like this is brutal. 

“In the book,” you explain. “They were so in love. And then he died. And afterwards—Bucky it was awful.” 

Oh. 

A book. 

This is manageable, to Bucky. You’re not in pain and he can handle this. 

He hauls you closer into his chest. You shuffle until your frame is enclosed by his. Bucky’s size had always been something he found inconvenient until you came into his life. Because after that, he found it was good at making you feel safe. A way to protect you from anything. 

Even… a book? 

Surely a book. 

“Hey, it’s alright, I got you,” he hums.

“Never die,” you whisper, and Bucky's mouth twists uncomfortably. 

“I won’t.” 

i need a fucking minute

More content of Seb from The Associated Press

this just makes me so happy

Operation Mistletoe

summary: With dozens of mistletoe appearing in archways across the compound, you start to notice a pattern when you begin to encounter Bucky Barnes beneath each one pairing: Bucky x reader warnings: fluff city baby a/n: I know I promised dark and twisty to follow up I’m With You, but I just couldn’t traumatize yall before the holidays…… so please enjoy some chrimmas flooof 

It was the day after Thanksgiving the first time you spotted one.

Hanging under the archway to the kitchen on a dark green ribbon, adhered crudely to Tony’s very expensive wooden crowning by a long, silver nail, was a small bouquet of mistletoe; thin, green leaves gathered under a bright red bow, decorated with spotted white and crimson bulbs.

There wasn’t a single holiday decoration in sight when you’d gone to sleep the night before and with the assignments Fury had been handing out lately, you couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time to nail a handful of leaves to the ceiling in their spare time. Sleep was a rare commodity around the Avengers compound and it wasn’t taken lightly, even amongst the chaos of the holidays. 

A single red bulb fell down from the ceiling as Sam bumped his shoulder into the wall upon his entrance. He steadied himself on the banister with sunglasses over his eyes as he nursed a devastating hangover following his three for three losses on Thanksgiving football bets.

The berry tapped your forehead before it fell to the floor and you squinted up at it like it was some sort of marriage.  

“Got you!” Bucky snuck in beside you and stole a quick kiss to your cheek as he skirted by. It was impossibly fast, almost like it hadn’t happened at all, though you could still feel the slight press of his lips on your skin after he was gone. 

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