Fandom: Overwatch
Pairing: McReyes(?)
TW: noncon, dubcon, nsfw, mindfuckery, Weird Things, possession
Notes: Uh. This is technically kinktober i guess, but it doesn’t really fit the kinky label. More whump if anything, but it doesn’t fit the whumptober prompt. But hey, I wrote another bad thing.
You look so pretty like this, darlin'.
Darling. Sweetheart. Honeybun. Every nickname is like a punch in the gut, each one enough to make Gabriel's stomach turn. It's a testament to the life he's led and the poker face he's spent years nurturing that he doesn't outwardly flinch, but it's a close call. closer and closer as the minutes tick by, infinitesimally slow.
He begs to disagree. Has done so, in polite and... less polite terms. He knows how to speak to Jesse, how to break through that trusty armor and get through to his second.
Praise and pain, trust and admonishment, different ways to wriggle around whatever facade Jesse has pulled up and break it down from the inside. He knows his second, his friend, inside and out. He can navigate the winding pathways of Jesse's thinking because if he's honest, which he's loathe to do, he carved out half of them himself.
The problem is that this is not Jesse.
Frustrated, Gabriel digs his nails into the floor again, muscles tensing in a renewed attempt to push himself up. He's been on hands and knees for so long his joints are cold to the bone, sore from keeping him up. He'd collapse if he could.
Whatever force keeps him down on his hands and knees, won't let him rest. There is no give either way and Gabriel is this close to losing his mind because of it.
It's not Jesse. Don't look at him. Don't-
Come on, jefe. You're the man who likes thinkin' outside the box. Why you gotta be so stubborn about this?
Gabriel watches Jesse's face. His lips don't move. His eyes glow that eerie red still, and Gabriel hates it but he thinks it would look good on him if they were anywhere else, weren’t completely and utterly fucked beyond belief. Maybe he’s always been fucked up. This is taking the goddamn cake, though.
Jesse laughs, an empty sound.
We'll convince you, darlin'.
No matter how he braces, no matter how hard he bites his tongue until he tastes blood, Gabriel can't stop himself from making a pathetic noise when clever fingers (he loves those fingers, has kissed them all) press into him again, right against his prostate in a way that makes his knees weak.
It's torture, like this. He doesn't know how often he's come already. His balls feel empty and if it weren't for Everything, he'd have the best rest of his life now. But there's no collapsing, no catching his breath; Jesse's fingers move methodically and wrench every pained grunt and reluctant moan from him as if they're little treasures he collects, cooing and praising him all the way through another shuddering, empty orgasm.
He blacks out. He's not sure how long.
When he startles back into consciousness, Jesse is holding his chin and they're almost nose to nose, close enough that Gabriel's breath catches. Jesse's thumb runs through his scruff, surprisingly soft. Suddenly, he can't even move his head and panic rises inside of him like a snake, ready to strike; there's a scream clashing against his teeth that he only just keeps caged.
It slithers into his head on Jesse's dulcet tones, the way he hums his approval over Gabriel's desperate state.
It'll feel good, sweetheart.
Gabriel should be used to it by now. He's not. It's confusingly warm and soothing as it slips down his spine, smoothing out the aches and pains from being in one position for so long, forced or not. Tempting him to relax, to stop digging his nails into the concrete until his fingers are bloody stumps.
He hasn't felt like this since he was still a stupid kid, staring at his abuelita's ofrenda, convinced that something in the painted skulls was looking back at him. It doesn't speak to him, not even through Jesse, but Gabriel wrenches his eyes shut in denial anyway.
He won't beg.
(It takes a full day and a full night before he finally cracks, and the relief makes his pleas taste like prayer.)
Fandom: Overwatch
Pairing: McReyes
TW: some mild medical-ish gore, some blood.
Notes: Post-Zürich, heavily based on personal hcs/discussions with my boo and very own McCree. Following this list. Not great, because I’m rusty, but good lord I need to start writing again or I might lose my mind.
He does not tell McCree how they got back to this safe house.
Not that it matters; the cowboy looks about as worse for wear as Gabriel has ever seen him, and if he's coherent enough to remember shit later, Gabriel is going to be real damn surprised.
McCree is haphazardly draped over the couch, naked in ways that don't count; his trusty serape and armored plating have been discarded, carelessly thrown on the floor, and his shirt is pushed up to expose his ribs.The tanned skin is sickly pale under the smears of blood. And yet Peacekeeper is still at his side, safely holstered. Gabriel knows better than to take it from him, and the odds of McCree even wanting to shoot him go down significantly if he doesn't lose his precious six-barrel.
He's also probably drunker than he should be, but Gabriel can't bring it in himself to care. The safehouse they're in, safely tucked away on the edge of Moscow, is stifling, the air stale from lack of use and poorly stocked, especially in the way of first aid. No biotics, no painkillers; the best Gabriel could do, was hand McCree an old bottle of vodka and tell him to brace as Gabriel personally handpicked the stray bullet out of McCree's ribs.
(He'd seen the vaguely disconcerted look Jesse had given him when his gloves slipped off, dissipated into tired smoke and dust, but he hadn't commented; smarter than to sass when Gabriel had his claws right under his ribcage, buried into his flesh.)
He doesn't know why McCree let him help, drag his ass back somewhere safe and try to stop him from bleeding out.
He doesn't ask.
It was gruesome but quick, and Gabriel hopes that the bandages will be enough in lieu of proper stitches. McCree's been through worse; he remembers.
"Pull your shirt down," he grumbles as he collects the mess, throws the filthy towels away. McCree does so silently, which tells Gabriel one of two things: McCree is really pissed, or McCree is in shock.
Possibly both.
McCree doesn't thank him, and Gabriel doesn't expect him to. Southern hospitality, genuine or not, transcends many borders, but not the ones Gabriel has crossed, and kindness is a luxury he thinks neither of them can afford. Not any more. It's not like he helped out of true kindness either, so it's only fair. Just.
McCree stays quiet for so long that Gabriel thinks he's fallen asleep. He's unsurprised, if a little annoyed; he hadn't planned to stay in Moscow longer than necessary and this is already throwing a wrench in his plans. He's too busy and Russia is too cold to linger, especially when he has no goal here. Even his nanites hum in annoyance, too much energy needed to keep the cold at bay, stay comfortable.
Begrudgingly, he lights a fire.
When he returns, standing over McCree with crossed arms, McCree wrenches one eye open with a pained groan.
"Stop hovering. You're creepin' me out."
"Hmph," says Gabriel. "I'm trying to decide if you're dying on me."
McCree gives him a half-hearted, familiar gesture that tugs at the emptiness behind Gabriel's sternum.
"Naw," McCree says. He goes for a grin, only half succeeds. "Right as rain, darling."
Gabriel wants to argue, something like if you die on me, I swear I'll kill you myself, you little shit, but joking about death threats after.. After everything, it’s a line they haven't agreed on yet. So he doesn't.
Instead, he crouches next to McCree and eyes him carefully. His hands are shaking; the bottle is within reach but McCree's fingers are wound tightly in the emergency blanket instead, white-knuckled and tense. They still shake; little tremors of cold and pain and pure McCree-brand stubbornness.
Before he can think too long about it, or reconsider, Gabriel reaches out and none-too-carefully plucks McCree's fingers free from their iron grip. McCree makes a noise, half pain half shock, that Gabriel pleasantly ignores. Instead, he folds his hands around Jesse's. He's cool to the touch, but the fire helped, and compared to Jesse he's like the world's saddest furnace right now.
"Shut up," he says gruffly when McCree opens his dumb mouth again and almost ruins it. "You're useless if you freeze to death."
Between his palms he feels McCree's fingers flex, restless. It doesn't last long. After a few moments of awkward silence, Jesse slumps back onto the couch, clearly too tired to stay awake now he's slowly defrosting. He slips into sleep between one breath and the next, his fingers going slack in Gabriel's hands.
And so does Whumptober 2019! Feast your eyes on this year’s gut-wrenchingly glorious Prompt List, and get inspired to create some killer content starting October 1st. There are some changes to the tagging system from last year, so be sure to give the attached Event information a read! If after reading you still have questions, feel free to send an ask to @whumptober2019 or reach out to the event creator, @la-vie-en-whump !
We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!
-Kat
The official Prompt List, Event information, and FAQs are all transcribed below the cut.
When you live your life a monster, it’s always between you and something. Gabriel Reyes knows this well.
Sometimes, it’s between him and the enemy. A Talon goon, a sloppy spy, a too-aggressive lone wolf trying to kick Gabe’s legs out from under him either literally or figuratively. Between him and the enemy, is the point – that’s how it’s supposed to be.
He kicks, shoots, ghosts away from danger like he is already dead (maybe he is, whatever kept his heart beating sure doesn’t anymore) and lets the rest of the world fade away until there is nothing but this.
Some stream-of-consciousness stuff i wrote a while ago but never finished. Seems a good place to put it.
When he comes to his senses, Gabriel regrets it instantly. Not like he has anything to want, though; he comes to, inhales a good lungful or two of the dust that’s still in the air and realizes that even though he’s choking, or something close anyway, he doesn’t have the energy to cough.
This, to say the least, is slightly worrying.
His memories come back to him in stuttering jolts and in reverse order, to make it even worse for his already struggling mind. the totality of the blackness around him; the explosion, Jack screaming orders and ducking behind a wall; himself, barking orders, the almost slow-motion sensation of feeling the ground reverberate. Panic, a stop-stuttering heart that he tastes in his throat.
Characters: Darcey, Xephos
Verse: AWAOO
Prompts: Feet, shotgunning
TW: uhhhh, drugs, smoking, foot fetish of sorts though this is mild
A little over an hour ago, Darcey had wondered out loud if his husband wouldn't mind. No, really wouldn't, because this was not quite the same as going out for drinks after work! But Xephos had laughed, waved away her worries and even Facetimed his very confused husband to assure her it was fine. And, y'know, that meant a lot.
The memory of Ridge's confused face made her giggle, and across the couch from her, Xephos arched a curious eyebrow.
"Everything okay, friend?"
"Yeah!" Darcey wiggled, stretching leisurely before bending over her little table, tipping some ashes into her ashtray. "Just, you and your husband are cute. You doin' good, hon?"
"Mm. It's interesting, that's for sure. I haven't quite..." Xephos hesitated, and Darcey glanced over only to see his freckles light up a little in something she couldn't place. Still cute, though. "Haven't quite, done this in a while. A long while."
"Oh! But 's good though, yeah?" She flashed him a grin as she stretched out on the couch again, toes wriggling as she used his lap as a footstool. "Are you feeling good?"
"Yes!" Xephos nodded, smiled that soft little smile that made her wonder just what the heck he was thinking about. "It's mellow, though."
"Mm."
She'd been with people like this before. Stubborn people, she meant! People who weren't quite sure how to unwind, a little awkward, and not as uhm, great at letting go. And then there was the whole definitely-not-human part, something she wasn't sure how to breach or even if she should, because really who was ever in the mood for 'hey you kinda smell not human' anyway? Never mind the whole glowing thing he had going on.
Point was, she had no idea how that whole thing would influence getting high anyway, but she knew for her it took a while too. It was a nice experiment!
Still, she was feeling particularly cheeky today, eyes half-closed like a cat in the sun as she watched him, watching her.
"You want some more hon?" The innocence in her voice was genuine but Xephos still flushed, patting her feet like he needed something to do with his hand. Also, quite cute.
"I- Yeah, why not. You do this a lot, then?"
Darcey inhaled slowly, one arm draped over the armrest of the couch as she sat up a bit. Her eyes sparkled. "Mhm! C'mere!" She giggled a little at the sound of her own voice, husky as she tried to hold her breath long enough for him to understand what she was asking. Which could take forever but, you know, not the point. "Idea. C'mere."
"An idea?" Xephos' brow furrowed a little but he leaned forward anyway, close enough for Darcey to see his pupils widen. His heart was like a nice background rumble, white noise that warmed her much more than an empty apartment ever would.
When he was close enough, Darcey let out a little giggle and pulled him the rest of the way, fingers curled in the collar of his t-shirt until he was bent forward awkwardly but their lips were touching and she could feel his lips twitch in surprise.
"Mm," she hummed again, wiggling her eyebrows at his shocked expression as she nudged his lips open with the tip of her tongue. "C'mon!"
Or, well, a throaty noise that hopefully meant something similar.
For a moment she thought he would pull back with how tense he was, all flustered apology and confusion, but then his eyes darkened and he made a low noise. He watched her intently and if she could have flushed she would have, but sometimes even Darcey got lucky. Slowly, she exhaled, felt the smoke tickle her throat as it came up and drifted into Xephos' mouth instead.
She liked smoking like this. It was always so fun. And it worked really well, so really what wasn't to like? Sky had been over the moon with it too and hey, she was nothing if not a humanitarian at heart, spreading the joy of.. fun things.
Xephos seemed alright with it too. She heard his heart stutter a bit when he inhaled, slowly, savoring it as much as she had, and when she pulled back she could see his pupils dilate until there was only a small ring of blue left.
"Yeah?" She grinned, very content with herself, as she leaned back in the couch and let her friend recover. "I hope that was okay!! I really like doing it that way but here, you can have it if you want."
She handed Xephos what was left of their joint and he took it tentatively, like he was holding something fragile that he wasn't supposed to drop. His shoulders dropped a little and he nodded, slowly.
"That was good," he agreed, sitting back with a sigh. With his eyes closed, he looked more un-fidgety than he usually did and Darcey couldn't help but be pleased. Being tense sucked, she got that, and seeing people unwind a little was always so frickin' nice. "You're very forward, you know."
"Only sometimes!" She perked up, wide-eyed and feigning innocence in a way that made Xephos laugh. "But you're, like, definitely good enough of a friend to tell me off, y'know."
"Oh, I know." Xephos smiled at her, warm and relaxed, and Darcey wriggled until she got comfortable again. Perfectly content in the little nest of blankets they'd created on the couch, and with good company to boot.
The music played softly in the background and Darcey wiggled her feet a little to the rhythm, eyes closing as they sat in companionable silence. Everything was a little fuzzy around the edges, like her favorite pink blanket, and though they hadn't been lacking in conversation topics, the silence was somehow also very nice. Not many people were able to sit in relative silence together, she mused, and it was super underrated. And with a new friend too? Good night.
She barely even noticed it when Xephos' fingers found her feet again and stroked them slowly, no longer fidgeting and shifting but leisurely enjoying the contact. And Darcey did too, letting out a soft noise as she sank a little further back into the couch cushions. Another thing that was super underrated? Casual intimacy.
Maybe he'd lay on top of her, later. She'd have to remember to ask.
Her thoughts drifted for a while. Her body always felt so nice and heavy when she was high and she savored it, barely noticing the small noise she made when Xephos dug his thumb into the sole of her foot and sent a shiver up her legs.
"Good?" he asked, voice a little hoarse, and Darcey tentatively opened one eye. He was watching her, eyes still glowing softly but definitely with that 'a little left of reality' vibe she knew very well. His fingers were still running over her feet, her ankles, making her skin buzz with the contact. Or maybe that was the weed. Maybe both.
"Yes!" she squeaked, a little too late, and wriggled her toes against his hand. "You're so sweet, you know that?"
"So are you." Xephos' lips quirked and he did it again, thumb working at the soles of her feet until Darcey let her head hang back.
"Hnn."
"Hnn indeed."
Darcey laughed when she heard the amusement in his voice and shimmied down the couch a bit until she could press her feet up against his face.
"Shush," she said, wrinkling her nose in fake-mockery. "This is nice, it feels nice, don't you make fun of me!"
"I wouldn't dare." Xephos shook his head, carefully holding her ankle as she pressed her big toe against his cheek, but she didn't miss the little flare-up thing his freckles did at her silliness.
"No?" She wiggled her eyebrows and curled her toes until she could run them down his face. The pressure was barely there, her legs were way too short for more, but Xephos still shifted like he was caught doing something bad. "Good!"
Xephos said a thing she didn't catch, but she would have given her left toe (the one pressing against his chest now, cause she couldn't be arsed to lift her leg higher) on it being a curse.
"D'you want me to stop, hon?" Darcey frowned a little, tensing her stomach to sit up just in case he needed comfort. But he shook his head, quickly, worrying his lip between his teeth before pressing a soft kiss to her ankle.
"I'm good," he said. "I promise."
"Oh." Oh.
Well! That was definitely okay!
"Good boy," she giggled, and pressed him back against the couch with one foot until he was all the way back into the pillows, both hands around her ankle and lighting up like one of her old nightlights. The joint had been forgotten and she plucked it off the table, stretching out leisurely as Xephos' fingers followed the curve of her calves. Once she'd lit it, she lay back too and blew a ring of smoke at him, his quiet laughter making them both shake.
"You're very demanding, suddenly." Xephos shook his head but didn't sit up again, and the way his voice almost-but-not-totally cracked sent a surge of warmth through Darcey. She could play this game! Really well, even if it was kinda unexpected. And he seemed to like it, which was really all she cared about.
"Shush, I said." Darcey grinned and poked his face with her toe again. "Be good, and you'll get another kiss."
Characters: Chess, a bit of Garret
Prompt: Transformation
TW: body horror, whump, general weird shit, drug mention
There was the pain of falling. The pain of plummetting out of the sky, be it metaphysical or real, more real than anything else, crashing and feeling like she should have broken every bone in her body and yet somehow it was worse.
(You don't break what you are without shedding a few tears.)
And then there were stupid little pains, the pain of rejection, the pain of hitting her head on the ceiling when she got into bed with a college student who still slept in a fucking bunk bed for crying out loud.
The pain of forgetting.
Yet somehow, Chess mused hazily as she twisted and turned in the nest of blankets that did so little to numb the pain, this was quickly promising to top even that.
Maybe the worst thing about this was that they had an audience. But like Garret, she had given up on scowling or pleading a while back. It was useless anyway, and there was something inside of her that tugged her back every time she felt like lashing out. This feeling of almost-dread in her stomach that distracted from her anger until it was empty, fizzling out like a cheap candle.
I can't do this, she thought. And then, like a faint whisper that was almost her own conscious but not quite, I have to.
For the first time in a very, very long time, purpose drove her to her hands and knees and before she could even try and hate it, her head went foggy and fuzzy and she dropped her head, subdued.
Next to her, Garret let out a snarl, and she reached out blindly until she could grab his hand.
It had started in her feet. The faint, elegant marks that curved around her ankle like a bracelet had started to buzz, almost like an itch that she had scratched absently only it had never gone away. And even sleepy as they were all the time now, curling up in a heap of blankets to try and get comfortable, it had gotten to the point of discomfort.
Even Garret rubbing her feet hadn't helped, which really was a fucking crime in and of itself.
But it had spread, insistent, until she couldn't lay still any more no matter how often she got one of those nice drinks, or soft whispers and headpets that made her dizzy and liquid with pleasure.
God, she missed that feeling now. She would definitely take feeling out of it and drunk over... whatever the fuck this was.
With a groan, Chess slowly lowered herself until she was curled up on her side, ankles crossed and pulling her knees to her chest in an attempt to hide from the pain that seemed to make her bones feel like lava.
I don't like this, she meant to say, eyes wide and scared as she watched Garret writhe in similar pain. But the words died in her throat when a sharp jolt shot through her spine until she arched her back, twitching. Panting a little, Chess waited for the pain to reside, for her limbs to start obeying her again so she could stomp off in search of answers.
It didn't reside.
Worse, it grew until Chess was gritting her teeth, hugging herself and barely noticing the way her nails got caught on something on her stomach because that itch was a mild annoyance only faintly in the back of her mind compared to the way the rest of her ached. Against her will even her hips twitched, rocking in the air for a moment until she let out another grunt of pain and rolled back on her hands and knees.
Something was wrong inside of her, but it was too far through the fog for her to reach it. All she could do was watch with wide eyes at the marks on her hands writhe, hair plastered to her face with sweat as she scratched at her blankets.
Even her knees gave way, and when she flopped down, her eyes rolled back with the agony that shot through her spine. It was like lightning and for a moment she thought she'd died, really died, like- called-back-to-heaven-to-be-executed-died. Surely that's what this would be like. As if all her bones had been replaced with lava or lightning that coursed through the tainted flesh until she was jerking helplessly, barely even aware Garret's hand had slipped from hers as well.
Then, she heard a crack.
With a yelp, Chess twitched and tried to push herself up, look at her legs because the pain had gone from agony to numbness to fire in about .5 seconds and it made her shiver in fear. But all she could manage was a half-hearted attempt until her arms stopped obeying her, too heavy and sensitive for her to even try and support herself.
Her flesh was melting, she was sure of it. Somewhere between the itching and the fever-like nap they'd taken something had shifted and she could barely keep her eyes open, could barely focus on anything as something jerked her and she arched her back, whimpering.
With a groan, Chess gave up on trying to sit or move and merely turned her head, throat too dry to even scream even though she really, really wanted to at the sight of her lover.
Garret was curled up like she had been, his hair a fucking mess and pale as a sheet- more than normal, even. All his braids had come undone and he was snarling at nothing, eyes a misty silver that didn't seem to see her even though she tried to whimper his name. Slowly, terrified, Chess let her gaze wander down his body. He'd been naked, she was sure of it, they both had been; and yet now it seemed like something covered him from the waist down, some twisting, pulsating mass that looked rough to the touch.
His legs, his legs were definitely the worst, she thought faintly. Maybe it was the pain or the fever or the whatever-it-was-in-the-drink but it looked like his legs were melting together, flesh writhing and discolored. Like it was peeling off almost, Chess mused, and wrenched her eyes shut as another wave of pain took her breath away.
Somewhere between one ragged breath and the next, her own legs went numb, and Chess almost sobbed in relief.
Xephos really, really enjoyed nights like these, rare as they were. Maybe especially because they were, now that he thought about it; he could count their shared days off in the last couple of months on one hand and it was slowly starting to take its toll on them both. Exhaustion and duty wore them both down to the bone, despite their determination to graduate together.
Be that as it may, this was their first night off in a long while and Xephos was determined to make the most of it. And after eating together (noodles, of course, because what else) and trying to watch a show they were both too distracted for, the moment had been perfect to give Will his present.
And man. The way his face lit up, that bright emerald that always made Xephos weak in the knees, he'd trade the world for it.
"I'm so glad you like it," he muttered as he finished tying the laces. Will was pressed against him, his back against Xephos' bare chest, and even the freckles on his shoulders were glowing a little still from excitement. "You look so good in red and black, you know?"
"You're such a dork," Will replied. Xephos heard the eyeroll and laughed, licking a wet stripe over Will's neck until he squeaked. "You shouldn't have, Xeph."
"I should, and have, and will again, yar kush-yel. So shut up and enjoy it."
Will huffed and Xephos dutifully ignored it as he focused on tying the ends of the laces together. Every time he'd pulled on them Will had let out the most beautiful noises, tiny and subdued but ever so obvious to his boyfriend. Who fucking adored it. And now he was all done up, and Xephos had to admit he'd done better knots but he was just so fucking eager to see the corset on Will that he could barely muster up the patience for a tidy bow.
Might be for the better, anyway. If it were up to him, they were gonna be naked before the end of the night. Though, when Will slid off his lap (much to Xephos' dismay) and turned around, the way his eyes sparkled made Xephos wonder if he had a say tonight.
"Fuck," he breathed, running a hand down Will's chest and admiring the intricate fabric that lined the laces in the front, delicate and sexy as fuck. "What did I do to deserve such a hot boyfriend?"
"Xeeph." Will flustered, but ducked his head to kiss Xephos anyway. "So it looks good?"
"Stunning."
Xeph leaned back on his elbows, worrying his bottom lip as he inspected his handiwork. Will was always fucking pretty but especially like this, preening a little as he ran his hands down his front, tousled hair and eyes a wild, vivid green that Xephos never wanted to dull.
"C'mere," he muttered. But Will shook his head, eyebrows raised a bit at his boyfriend on the bed, and Xephos felt his stomach do a double back-flip.
"No," Will replied, a little too cocky - but then he always overcompensated, a little, just at first, until they figured out which way they were leaning today and he forgot all about what kind of role he had to play. "Maybe you were right."
"About what?" Xephos laughed, reaching up to hug Will as he climbed back on the bed and straddled Xephos carefully. "That you're stunning? Cause you so are, you're right-"
"About what you've done to deserve it."
"...Oh."
More elegantly than Xephos would have given him credit for, given his earlier uncertainty, Will slid off Xephos' lap and nodded at the floor, indignant and really fucking sexy if you asked Xephos.
"I think you know what I mean," Will said. Xephos didn't know how fast he could get off the bed.
It always stung his knees a little, plopping down on the ground so quickly, and maybe he should be more careful but man, was it ever too tempting to rush when Will got like this. All stern and gorgeous as he slipped into his more dominant side like a well-worn coat, looking down his nose at Xephos with barely hidden amusement.
"Better," he said, reaching out to pet Xephos' hair. Xephos purred, delighted. "You're such a brat, Xeph."
"Just wanna spoil you." Xephos let out a low rumble as he nuzzled Will's legs until he could sit between them, hands loosely around Will's ankles. "You know you like being spoiled." It earned him a stingy scalp and Xephos shuddered, looking up from behind his bangs as he felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Please?"
"..Fine." Will relented finally, spreading his legs a bit more. He tried so hard to be nonchalant but Xephos saw right through it, yet he didn't even care. Like this, on his knees for the love of his life, he knew he'd give a lot more than his tongue and a pretty piece of clothing for Will, no matter how awkward they could be sometimes.
He slowly shifted his weight, watching Will's breath hitch as he leaned in closer. "Please," he repeated, eyes half-closed when he felt Will's tentative hand in his neck. "You smell so good Will, let me show you how grateful i am" After a moment's thought, he added a quiet "sir" and Will shivered.
"Fucking brat. If you forget sir again, you don't get to eat me out at all."
That was a threat if Xephos ever heard one.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said quietly, and smiled against Will's skin when he was petted. It was always hard to focus around Will but especially like this, with his thoughts already a bit fuzzy from being on the floor.
"Make it up to me," Will said, and so he did.
He savored every inch of Will's skin, licking and petting his way up both legs ever so slowly. And when Will was finally trembling, legs spread wide after Xephos had pulled off his pants, Xephos felt drunk with the smell of him. The sight of him, all glowing and shifting on the bed, got to his head and Xephos moaned quietly, fingers teasing the skin on Will's thighs until they came away a little wet.
"You're so pretty," he whispered as he kissed some of the outer folds, slightly slick and softening already. "Fuck, fuck sir, I got really lucky, please let me make you feel good. I promise I'll be good."
"I know," Will replied, voice husky as he tangled his hand in Xephos' hair and pulled him closer. "Now stop being a teasing little bitch."
"Yessir." Xephos knew he slurred his words a little and decided that he didn't feel like talking much anyway. As much as he wanted to worship every inch of Will until the sun rose, he could do that much better with his tongue anyway. It didn't escape him like words often did, and when he pressed his tongue gently at Will's slit, he shuddered head to toe.
Will always tasted fucking great, but he had been waiting for this moment all day. So when he could finally feel Will's fronds soften and open for him, glistening with that soft green glow, he was almost dizzy with it. He glanced up at Will as he licked his way inside slowly, seeing him melt with every broad stroke of his tongue.
Stars, he thought as he slid his fingers up. I could be here all day every day and I wouldn't want for anything else. I got so fucking lucky. He pressed his gratitude into the insides of Will's thighs, nails scratching faint trails across the freckles as he let the fronds explore his mouth.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
It was so easy to get lost in that and maybe his feet were going numb, maybe his knees stung and he was making a mess of himself with how wet he was just eating Will out. But everything faded until there was just the taste of Will, soft moans and pleas filling the silence that might have been his, might have not been. He wasn't sure. Didn't care.
He only blinked and felt the world slip back into focus a little when Will pulled him close, pressing his face into the folds and wetness until he couldn't breathe. And he still licked, shuddering along with Will when he came with a cry and yanked Xephos' hair so hard he saw stars.
"Fuck, Xeph."
"Mm." Xephos hummed to himself as he licked Will's fronds clean, grinning like an idiot when they twitched and stuck to his stubble like they were unwilling to let him go, too. "Good, sir?"
"Good boy," Will agreed, absently petting Xeph's head as they just sat there for a moment. And the warmth in his chest that came from that, hell, if this was his eternity then he really was the luckiest star on Ta'hal.
Characters: Flynn, Ridge
Verse: Suit Up
Prompt: Hairpulling, mental bond
TW: Hairpulling, a little violence/aggression but not much
When she pulls his hair, she can feel it. Down to the tiniest detail, like someone (Reese Reese Reese) is curling his fingers in her hair and tightening them ever so slightly just like she's doing now, until their entire scalp is tingling and they hang suspended in that moment. Somewhere between pleasure and pain, the moment it melts together and god, if ever beauty was made corporeal, she's pretty sure this is it.
Good? she whispers, delights in the way she can make this giant of a man bend and twist until his knees give way and he sinks down to her level. Delights in the gasps, the moans, the too-dark eyes and the too-dark grin that she tears apart so, so slowly. Cockiness turned into despair but, the good kind. The kind that makes it okay to beg for more.
He nods, she pulls harder. Yanks, even. Used to be, she was worried about consent, about talking through the rules beforehand until they knew them all by heart. Now, she can feel his heart jump as if it was her own, so she knows how far to push. How hard to pull. When to stop-
and when to keep going and going and going.
He growls at her, she grins. Pulls. Even brought to his knees he's impressive, scary almost, but the shadows bend with her until she feels so big and he so small. A balance, a dance, and when she digs her nails into the soft bit of flesh just below his hairline, he yowls in pleasure that makes her knees tremble, too.
She likes seeing them break, almost as much as she used to love putting them back together. There's a hunger there, a yearning, it's a little-
She has to pause, and think. Drowsily, drunk with pleasure, until he whines and arches for her. The monster in her roars and she lets it.
Be good. She puts him on his knees, keeps him taught like a bowstring until he’s shivering and shaking and all she wants to do is bite and claw at him unwil they both forget the world beyond their nest. She knows he feels it too, even though she’s towering over him, and the snarl he lets out only makes her want it more.
It’s little like something she used to hate, but she's okay with that.
Characters: Chess, Garret
Prompt: Fisting
TW: nsfw, obviously. fisting. that’s about it.
Chess likes fucking, plain and simple. From the familiar thrill that comes with finding someone new, charming them into her bed for a one-night fling, to quickies in diner restrooms and the back of cars, to yes, even the so-called walk of shame.
Which, in her opinion, is fucking bullshit; why be ashamed after a good night? If she had a one night stand, and she does, quite often, she walks back home with her head held high. High heels in hand, basking in the morning sun and proud like it isn't the thing that damned her in the first place.
Anyway.
She likes to fuck, is the point. And every partner has something different that she enjoys. But fucking a vampire - now that has more than a few benefits. Great fucking stamina, for one; there aren't many who can match hers, so finding someone who can is like finding.. A rare wine, or some other dumb cliché like that. He's a fucking gem, is what she means. And just on the right side of kinky, too. Which really means that he is up for anything and didn't shy away from the sweet pain of being a little rough. Just the way she likes.
She also likes to tell him, frequently and loudly, how much she enjoys fucking him. It makes him fuck her more, you see. But there are moments where she especially appreciates having him in her bed, and this is one of them.
"You alright there, darling?" She wears a smirk under her smudged lipstick as she runs a hand up Garret's back, slowly, following the dip of his spine up until her fingertips brush against braids that are starting to come undone.
(She'll redo them later. He'll let her. They both know this.)
He breathes, ironically. "Chess," Garret groans, and it's almost a threat. A shame half of it is muffled in the pillow because he can't be arsed to turn his head enough to look at her. "If you keep stopping, I will be decidedly not-alright, so- ah."
She relishes this, all of it, but especially the way his claws curl into the bedsheets just a little the moment she moves. She's about three fingers in, buried up to the third knuckle in his ass, and it's impossibly tight despite the copious amounts of lube she insists on.
("You're undead, not unbreakable. Besides, if you want bloodplay, you can bite me later.")
She's taking it slow and it's killing him and her heart flutters at the thought, so she slows herself down even more.
"You're so impatient," she chastises gently. She presses a bright-red kiss to the small of his back as she gently wiggles her fingers, thumb pressed against that sweet spot just behind his balls. "You know I always deliver. Just relax, darling."
"I am relaxed," Garret bites back, but when she shifts up onto her knees, she can see him grinning at her over his shoulder. He's not flushed, never is, but his hair is falling in his face and his pupils are so huge it takes her breath away. "Might even fall asleep, if you keep up this pace."
She rolls her eyes, but obliges. He can take a lot; they both know this. And even if she hurt him he'd take it, laughing, and reciprocate; push her down into the bed, careless in his bites, making her scream. They're a good match - but besides all that, she knows he wants this.
Maybe she's just in a cruel mood, today.
"Sassy," Chess comments, and drizzles some more lube directly on his ass before she starts working her pinkie in as well. Ever so slowly widening her fingers until there's a little room, a little give, just enough to open him up more. "And big words from the man who is dying to be worn like a puppet."
"Shut up, darling." Garret rolls his eyes too, she knows he does, but when she pushes in a little further his back arches wonderfully and Chess has to actually try to bite back a moan. "Oh, fuck- Like that, yes."
See the thing is, they do what they like. And Garret likes this, likes the slow torture of being filled to the brim and then some, until he's shaking and gasping (not needy, never needy, because she will grant his every wish) and moaning her name like it's a prayer.
It's a good thought, and she rubs her free hand between her legs for a moment as they sit there, suspended. She can feel his ass flutter around her fingers with every slow, teasing thrust, wet noises filling the silence until she shifts a bit and Garret groans without shame.
"Like that?" she asks, like she doesn't know the answer. Garret wiggles his ass back, urging her on.
"Yes, like that. Mmm."
And really, who would say no to that.
She peppers his back with kisses as she bends over him, pushing his braids out of the way with her nose so she can lick and bite at his pale skin. Her other hand wraps around his stomach, keeps him up when his knees start to shake every so slightly, and she can feel her own cheeks flush with heat as her lover shudders against her.
He is so, goddamn, tight.
"Almost there," she whispers, fingers splayed against his stomach as she shifts her weight and rubs her thumb against the tight rim of his ass. He's dripping with lube and wriggling in anticipation, and it's almost worth it to keep him in this moment because he looks gorgeous enough to fall on her knees for. But she's not that cruel. And when she works in the tip of her thumb, opening him up even wider, he moans her name so reverently that her heart skips a step.
"Chess... Chess please." He moves, slowly, trying to press back against her, and she leans over him as she inches in slowly. "More."
"Of course," she says, and knows he can hear the smile in her voice. "Of course, darling."
It's always a bit of a shock but her fist finally slips past the slight resistance and then she's inside of him, hand buried in his ass up until her wrist, and it's so impossibly tight she would worry she's hurting him if she didn't know any better. And of course he wants more, greedy fucker that he is.
She can see his eyes rolling back in his head when she starts to thrust. Slowly still, but she doesn't need to go fast for this. She knows every inch feels like a mile and he's so goddamn tiny she can feel his stomach bulge out a bit against the palm of her hand. She almost comes at the feeling.
"You're stunning," she whispers, and that's as close as she will ever come to worship again. "Let me hear you, darling. Is it good?"
"Fuck, yes." Garret groans, head bent as he pants and scrambles to hold her hand. "More.."
So, she gives him more.
When he comes all over her hand, untouched, cock jerking in time with her deep thrusts, Chess moans in his ear and thanks her remaining lucky stars for their little world of their own. It's hot and crazy and almost too much, but she loves seeing him like this. He never has many inhibitions but they're all shattered now. It's raw, and fucking hot as shit-
and when he mumbles her name, spent and limp in her arms, she thinks she might just love him.
Characters: Ashe, Will
Prompts: Edging, knifeplay, playing with knives
TW: NSFW, blood, dubcon (consent under mind control isn’t consent guys), mind control/magic fuckery, magic high, blood magic, bloodplay, knifeplay, liberal use of daddy kink (sorry not sorry), alien genitals, general awfulness
Note: Yes I combined goretober and kinktober for this one. The prompts were too good not to. As a result this is a fucking disaster, as the TW will show. ..Enjoy?
"I bet you can manage one more for me, can't you?"
Not that it really mattered; Ashe already knew that her pretty toy was going to do anything she would ask of him, maybe even more. That was the joy of their little arrangement, at least for her. Still, it was worth asking him sometimes, if only to see him squirm just a little bit more.
Not that he was lacking in the squirming department, at the moment. Humming to herself, Ashe licked the sharp edge of the blade as she looked Will over. He had given up trying to stand upright a while ago, and she had to give it to him; he'd managed to be stubborn about it longer than she'd expected.
Not stubborn enough, though. Not for her.
It always started out the same way; Will trying to be cocky, almost like he was trying to prove to himself that he could absolutely, totally resist. That he was doing this because he wanted to. A few coy looks here, a few touches there, the glimmer of her knife and her sharp grin in the candlelight and he'd be on his knees. Arguing still, pretending he was just a bratty little sub until she called him daddy and made him bend over backward for her anyway.
Will whimpered as he felt her gaze roam over him; as if just looking at him made him feel like she was pulling at his fresh wounds, digging her tongue into the raw, oozing flesh just to make him cry out more. Like this, on his knees, barely able to keep himself upright as he fought the urge to fuck himself stupid on his fingers and not an inch of skin unmarred, he was always at his prettiest.
Yes, Ashe thought to herself. He was still just as promising as she'd thought when they first met. She'd smelled the desperation on him, a tangible, bitter thing that drew her in like a moth to a flame - only without the common lethal outcome of such an encounter. And he'd tasted of it, too; even as she first kissed him and felt him reach out, lick into her to chase that trace of copper and power, she could taste the need in him.
Good thing she’d found him.
"Don't worry, daddy." Ashe grinned when Will managed to lift his head, struggling to complain about being edged again when he had already been holding out for so long. So ready to beg, all pride leaving him like the blood she had drawn. "I know you can do it; you're always so good for me, isn't that right?"
She crouched next to him, the lightest touch of her fingers against his chin enough to make him shudder with need.
He looked like art, like a masterpiece, and for a moment she even considered taking a picture, for Frame. Maybe later, once Will was asleep and she could get the angle just.. right.
Someone else might have felt sorry for him, Ashe mused. He looked a bloody perfect mess; from the long, red lines on his chest and arms and legs, following the webbing of veins underneath, some of them still oozing blood slowly, draining him from all the energy he so clearly needed to try and get off. He looked lightheaded, swaying a little, pupils blown so wide they all but obscured the glow. Through the smears of blood, she could see his freckles light up still, a bright and urgent green smudged and blurry in some places, painfully vivid in others.
Humming, she ran the tip of her blade up the inside of his thigh and relished the way he twitched, unsure what to beg her for.
"One more," she promised, knife dangerously close to his outer fronds. "One more, daddy. I bet you can do that for me."
Herculean effort though it was, Will eventually nodded.
"Y-yes. Yes, I'll be good Ashe, please let me be good-"
"Shh." Ashe quickly smothered his pathetic attempt at begging with two stained fingers in his mouth, laughing when he started to suck instantly. "Shh shh, I've got you, you know I always do, don't you?" A nod. "Good boy. You know what to do."
Quivering, lips raw and dry from worrying them between his teeth, Will sat up a bit. He spread his legs just so and Ashe smirked.
"Clever boy. I bet you like this more than you let on, you know." The tip of the knife ran down his leg again, over already raw flesh and tugging on wounds that had only just started closing a little. She watched the patchwork of stains that covered him, the blood such a stark contrast to how pale he was. A small trickle of it ran down his leg, and Ashe could barely hold back a moan.
"Count for me."
Fuck, but wouldn't it be fun to cut him open like this? When he was so needy, so desperate to come after hours and hours of edging that she knew he would lay back and let her pin him down like a butterfly, fold his ribs open like wings so she could display the beauty of his corpse to the world. To see if his weird alien cunt would bleed a different hue too if she cut open those sensitive little wrigglers-
Ah, but that would end their fun. She wasn't quite ready for that.
Instead, she bit his neck just to feel his breath hitch as she flipped the knife in her hand, pressing the duller hilt of it against his fronds. Not meant for penetration, he'd told her- ah, but there were solutions for everything. And she had worked so hard to get him all wet and soft for her.
"Count," she repeated, barely above a whisper, and slid behind Will so she could press his back against her bare chest, smearing more blood across the two of them. Will gasped, and she started to rub the hilt against his slit, a new surge of wetness slicking it up perfectly for her.
"One.." he breathed, and Ashe pet his hair, urged him to lean his head back so she could see his face.
"Two.. Fuck, Ashe."
"That's it, daddy," Ashe murmured, pressing the hilt down harder because that always made his hips twitch so nicely. "You can do it."
He managed it, too, and Ashe was almost impressed. He didn't even have to start over this time, never lost track even though somewhere between five and six his head fell back and she could taste his heart trying to jump out of his chest. He was wound tight like a spring, his mind undoubtedly a red haze of need, and he still managed to logic his way through the countdown.
"Ni- ahh, nineninenine- Ashe please, I can't, I'm gonna-"
"And ten," Ashe finished for him, laughing at the way he cried out as she pulled the knife away. "See, I knew you could, daddy."
He whimpered, face pressed against Ashe's neck, thighs shuddering with the effort it took to hold his orgasm at bay. She wondered if she'd have felt sorry for him if she had been someone else. Such an alien concept. As she bit his shoulder again, hard enough to draw blood this time and licking it up leisurely, the small jolt of power ran through them both and she didn't bother holding back her own moans anymore.
Oh, but he was so beautiful every time he broke.
"You really like this, don't you?" Ashe breathed, sliding her empty hand around to pet his chest, twisting a nipple to draw out one of his beautiful cries before she pressed her fingers between his legs. "I bet I could make you edge a full day for me, a week, never letting you come, and you'd still come crawling back, begging me for more. Oh shh, I've got you, daddy, you know that right?"
Her fingers were so wet with blood and Will's slick that they slid over his fronds easily, not enough grip to them to manage anything than some pathetic twitches. Maybe next time she'd eat him out again. That had been fun.
But now, with this pretty little boy heaving and whimpering against her, bucking his hips whenever she pulled her fingers back, Ashe had other priorities.
Slowly, almost as if in trance, she picked up the filthy knife again and ran the tip over it over Will's cheek, smearing the tears across his face until he looked pretty as could be. She could feel his eyes trying to follow it, eager for it-
"I bet if I made you choose, you wouldn't be able to. Isn't that right, daddy? I bet you'd give up cumming if I just kept cutting you open like the needy little bitch you are."
Will whimpered. And that, Ashe thought, was the true beauty of man.
"Don't worry." She ran her fingers through his hair, then tightened her grip and pulled his head to the side a bit so she could press another biting, bruising kiss to his neck. "You've been a very, very good boy. I think you deserve a reward."
The noises Will made were filthy and desperate when she finally returned her attention to his fronds, rubbing and pressing down and in just the way he liked it. She could feel him tense against her, nails scraping against the coarse stone as his body went a little more rigid with every stroke. Pulling and drawing him closer to the edge with every flick of her thumb, the fronds trying to wrap around it and keeping it close.
"Good boy," she whispered again. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."
She could feel it building inside of her too, every droplet of blood on the floor rippling out in waves until she felt alight with power. And she could keep him teetering on the edge for ages like this, stroking just firmly enough that tears ran down his cheeks, all thought and reason wiped from his silly brain until there was nothing but this. Nothing but blood-
Nothing but power.
"I hope you're not afraid of heights." Ashe giggled as she grabbed the knife and pressed the tip of it to the base of his neck, right underneath the hairline. That sneaky sweet spot she had discovered a few fucks ago, the one that made him whimper and melt at the slightest touch. "Cause you're going to be flying high for a while, daddy."
She pressed her fingers in, a little too far, the stretch of it just on the right side of pain. The knife cut quick, drew blood to the surface in the most perfect way. And Ashe watched Will spasm, his head against her shoulder as his eyes rolled back in his head, hips bucking as his orgasm washed over him- and with it, the high. The addiction that made him taste so sweet.
He was always a squirmy one. But when Ashe pressed her tongue against the cut on his neck, licking away the blood almost reverently, Will spasmed like he was riding the lightning. And when his eyes opened, unseeing, the red glow made Ashe moan in earnest.
"Fuck, daddy," she groaned, untangling her fingers from the mess between his legs and licking off the slick. "You're so pretty when you're all high and powerful like this. Got me all hot 'n bothered too."
Normally, she could talk all she wanted (and she did, oh she did) when he was like this but when she moved to lay Will down he groaned, shook his head and quite frankly surprised her.
"Ashe-" he tried, voice far away, distracted. He shuddered against her, fingers like a vice on her knee. "I-"
Ashe grinned. "Yeah? Good shit, hm. That's right." She ran a hand down his chest, taking care to pull at some of the cuts until Will was moaning again. "We can always be like this."
"I want it."
With surprising strength, if very little coordination, Will twisted in her grip and slid down, mouthing at her bare stomach like he was trying to crawl inside of her. Like he was worshipping- and it was about damn time, too.
"Then stay with me, daddy," Ashe said, petting the raw cut in his neck and laughing when that still earned her a full-body shudder even as he focused on spreading her legs. Kissing his way up her thighs and leaving a trail of little nips that made warmth blossom in her cunt. "You can be so strong when you're with me. You feel so good with me, don't you?"
His answer was to press his tongue into her cunt like he was dying of thirst and Ashe stretched out luxuriously, fingers sparking with power as she ran them through his hair to keep him nicely topped off.
Characters: Blaise, Jessie
Verse: AWAOO
Prompt: Ass worship, begging
TW: NSFW (duh,) a reference or two to biting
It had started out as a silly conversation. A little truth or dare, a little exploration of each other's preferences the way young lovers tended to do anyway. And Blaise was enjoying it in a weirdly exciting way; watching Jessie over the rim of their wine glass, seeing him fluster at some of the questions as much as they did.
(And they hadn't even dared to think about some of the looks Jessie had given them earlier, somewhere between hunger and love, teetering on that edge for just long enough that it made Blaise want to cry. Or undress. Possibly both.)
A funny game, a conversation. That's all.
So what's your favorite body part?
They'd grinned, so content with themselves for even daring to ask the question in the first place that the way they giggled and blustered their way through the questions felt normal, nice even. A break from their anxiety that they relished more than anything.
And yet right now, some part of them regretted asking the question. Right now, bent over the edge of the sofa wearing nothing but a tank top, face hidden in their hands as they tried to bite down every gasp and giggle that Jessie's hands seemed to pull out of them from somewhere deep inside.
"Jessie-" they tried, again, for the fifth time in as many minutes. All they got in return was a noise so close to a moan it left them tongue-tied instantly.
"It's true though," Jessie countered, quietly, and Blaise shuddered at the feeling of their boyfriend's (their BOYFRIEND's!!) hands on their ass, rubbing slow circles into the freckled skin until Blaise was blushing so hard they were sure they'd catch on fire with how hot they were feeling. "You have the best ass. Nice and round-" Jessie emphasized it by squeezing the cheeks gently and Blaise squeaked, hid their face more, teeth marks in their palm from stifling a moan. "And those freckles are so cute. I could stare at it forever."
"Don't!" Blaise squeaked out, twisting to look over their shoulder and instantly regretting it as the sight of Jessie, transfixed by their ass and obviously excited, made their cock twitch helplessly. "Jess, you're teasing me.."
"Maybe," Jessie muttered as he ducked his head, eyes half-closed as he took a deep breath that made Blaise flush with heat. "But you're so tempting, you know that?"
Blaise muffled another breathless moan against their hand when they felt Jessie's lips, a soft, hot kiss that quickly set them ablaze when his razor-sharp teeth followed. And they trusted him, fully, had bared their throat for him more than once, but it still thrilled them every time. Like they were bedding something dangerous, something wild, even though Jessie was as much of a softie as he could possibly be.
"Mmh-" they agreed eventually, at a loss for words. "Jess-"
"Shh," Jessie muttered, and Blaise felt his lips curve into a shy grin against their ass cheeks. "Just let me- yeah?"
They wanted to ask what. Not that it mattered; they'd let him do anything, turn them inside out and let him drink from them until their head went all foggy. But before they even had a chance to rope their thoughts into something resembling a coherent sentence, Jessie's tongue licked one lazy, hot stripe over their ass and they dissolved into a puddle.
"Let me," Jessie repeated, breathless. "You have such a good ass, Blaise. I wanna taste it too, yeah? Just-" Blaise felt him shift behind them to press a kiss to their lower back, and they sighed. Melting. Eager. "Three taps and I stop. I promise. But fuck, you have an ass that deserves a little attention."
For a while, that was all either of them managed to say. Jessie because he slowly but surely worked to make good on his promise, hands and tongue roaming over Blaise's ass as if he was memorizing every inch of it. And Blaise-
Blaise because the second they felt Jessie's tongue, weirdly hot for once after feeding and all the more thrilling for it, press inside of them, licking somewhere they didn't think was going to be so appealing, felt their muscles and resolve give in.
"Jess-" they breathed out, shuddering when all they got as a reply were the most filthy noises they had ever made Jessie make. Wet and sloppy and hungry. They rocked their hips, slowly, trying to hold themselves back even though every nerve in them was screaming for more, more friction, more wetness, more him. "Jess, please..."
When Jessie finally pulled back Blaise was panting, nails digging into the couch from trying to hang on to the shreds of their restraint. As Jessie ran his hands over their ass, all slick and trembling now, Blaise pushed into the touch, gasping when they felt Jessie's cock between their cheeks. Taunting.
"Yeah?" Jessie asked. "Is that... More?"
"Just fuck me," Blaise whined. “Please, in the name of everything that’s fucking holy just fuck me.” And when they glanced over their shoulder, they were sure their heart stopped at the look on Jessie's face.
Kinktober day 1
Face-sitting/mask
Pair: Eli and Zell
Warnings: Nsfw, really awkward nsfw
She felt like electricity was running up and down her arms as she looked at her date mate, there was something soft to this, and she wasn’t sure if she could explain it to anyone else if they paid her too. The curtains were drawn as she reached towards them. Hands on their face she took a long moment, kissing them till she felt out of breath.
They had gone this far before, touches and kisses, that slowly lead to something more. This was still new, however, and Zell felt the bubbles of eagerness and nerves mixing in her veins as she slowly threw her shirt away. “Are you sure you are okay with this?”
Maybe she sounded smaller than she was, perhaps more unsure than she intended, because Eli swept her up in an embrace that disintegrated the nerves with precision. She shuddered, skin to skin, as she nuzzled against their chest. Pressing long kisses along the base of their neck as she found safety in their arms.
“If it is something you are really wanting to try, I’ll do it.” They assured her, and there was a moment where Zell wondered if she should feel guilty, or pull back from her request, give Eli more time to adjust. Intimacy was something Zell wasn’t meant to have, not like this, not till her soul was twined together with the one she was to love forever.
Eli had never seemed ready for that, and Zell had never wanted to force that. Her mother hadn’t wanted it, so surely there had to be a reason why some people weren’t ready for such a thing. Eli seemed ready for this at least.
She felt it in the way they kissed her, made those worries seem so far away, and her body sing in ways she didn’t know were possibly with simple touches. “I love you, so fucking much, you know that, right?” She had to make sure, even as she saw the way their mouth twitched.
“I know Zell, I promise, if I really can’t take it, I’ll let you know. Trust me, and I’ll trust you.”
It was all the assurance she needed. With one last kiss she crawled over to the side of the bed, grabbing out the blinding mask she had bought. Carefully she slipped it over, making sure Eli still seemed comfortable before slipping it all the way down, and helping them lean back to lay on the bed.
She slipped a leg between theirs, helping wedge them apart lightly, as her hands wrapped around their wrist, leading them above their head and holding them there for a moment with soft kisses, one after another that slowly trailed down their neck. “Try not to touch okay?”
She felt their breath catch, and it gave her the boost in confidence she was looking for, a slight nod as they linked their hands together over their own head, deciding to trust her orders for the time being, trust her with their sight, and their body.
An honor, and one that Zell had no intention of wasting, she slipped very slowly between their legs, her nails teasing the sensitive skin, as she pressed soft lips against the goosebumps of flecked glowing skin. Careful bites, and sucking on skin, leaving soft marks, and scratches as their breath hitched, an almost nervous purr as their fronds slowly began to unfurl.
Zell’s eyes were glowing as she saw them opening for her, and those soft noise melted into words. “You are so stunning.” And for a moment she worried her compliment had the opposite result as the bloom opening before her retracted just a bit, a few more soft kisses, however, and they were back.
Mouth open, she let the fronds in. A flurry of soft noises from her, and gasp from her date mate, as she got into a rhythm of licking and sucking, fingers rocking in circles along the sensitive nerves that coated their entrance. The fronds clung to her mouth, her hair, kept her close, and made her almost giggle with excitement as Eli’s breath came harder with each passing second.
She could see them struggling to keep their hands at bay, and she appreciated it, would complement them if her mouth wasn’t so otherwise occupied. Not that she was complaining. Eli always tasted sweet somehow. Made her feel warm, from head to toe, made her feel that small pain in her stomach as something bloomed between her own legs.
It was special, a bond only they could form, and she shuddered as her arms wrapped properly around their legs and held close. Her face pressed between their legs. Licking deeply and sucking until she heard Eli’s labored breaths turning to swears, and the resolve broke a bit. “Shit, Shit Zell. F-fuck” She knew exactly what that meant, and with a smile she opened her mouth a bit more, making sure as many of the slick fronds were in her mouth as possible exploring where they wanted when Eli finally came.
Shuddering, staggered, heavily breathing as the sweet substance ran down her chin for the moment. She moved away, licking her lips until she noticed Eli moving to take off the blind fold. Her hand instantly shot out, a wicked grin.
“I didn’t say you could take that off yet. You do really taste good, you should let me eat you out more often.” She couldn’t help but sigh and wished Eli was easier to get to blush as their freckles light up, it takes her breath away. “Oh, Eli.”
But they don’t try and take it off, instead just reaching up and blindly reaching till she takes their hand, and places it on her own face, kisses their fingers one by one, and sucking as one is pressed near her mouth. “You are cruel doing things like this when I can’t see you.”
As the finger slipped from her mouth she leaned down and kissed them. A kiss that lasted forever and took both their breaths away. “Oh I’ve not even started, you are going to really think I’m cruel by the end of it.”
She had learned a few new tricks after all. Seeing as eating Eli out always turned her on, it made the next part so much easier. She slowly crawled up till she was sitting on their chest. Watching the gears turn, even behind a mask, and she could tell the moment it clicked.
“Oh”
She smirked, before petting their hair, and placing a knee on either side of their head, slowly lowering down, till the first of her own fronds could brush at his lip. “You know how to take care of something like this, don’t you?”
They take a moment to process, before their hands are on her hips, the no touching rule apparently completely lost to their mind as their date mate sat on their face, the world outside that taste and feeling melting away when Zell first moaned.
It was loud, and unashamed, and she didn’t care, who heard them, and who knew. She loved Eli, and she loved this, and she was god damn going to enjoy this.
