Oof, I’m not sure how good this is, it’s one of those days. But never mind, I still love these two ❤
NSFW
‘You’re a day late,’ August pointed out, breathless already,
groaning when Sylvian kissed them again. Their tunic and sash were slung over
the back of their chair, carefully removed, and warm hands pushed the hem of
their shirt up, thumbs brushing over their smooth stomach. He pressed them back
against the desk, one hand going to the top drawer, and they could feel him
grinning against their mouth.
They might have been embarrassed about the bottle of slick,
if they could concentrate.
‘Sylva,’ they blurted as he lifted them to sit on the desk,
deft hands at work on their belt. ‘I haven’t locked the door.’
He huffed a laugh, fingertips grazing the soft skin of their
arching hipbones, dipping into the front of their trousers, his mouth on their
neck. ‘Then lock it,’ he said, nipping at their earlobe. Insufferable man.
Their attempt to focus was completely shattered as his
fingers curled around their already-hardened length, stroking slowly. August
groaned, arms wrapping around his shoulders, reeling him in, and he laughed.
‘Can’t concentrate?’ He asked innocently, and August dipped
their head, catching his bottom lip with their teeth. Sylvian’s eyes lidded,
pink dusting his cheeks, and although his blush was nowhere near as bad as theirs,
it was still satisfying to watch.
They made use of the distraction, pushing out with their magic,
and they heard the lock click. As
soon as it did, something wicked flickered in his silver gaze, and he dropped
to his knees. Here? They thought in
disbelief, gasping as he dragged their trousers down, cool air ghosting across
bare skin. This was their office,
they’d never… Well, first time for
everything, they supposed, and then thoughts spiralled out of their reach
as he took them in his mouth.
August gasped, biting their lip to stifle the noise, fingers
pushing into ebony hair, gripping tight. He hummed around them, amused by their
reaction, his tongue circling in long, hot glides. A slicked finger pressed
against their entrance, and their hips bucked involuntarily as he pushed. Scarlet
flooded their face, embarrassed at the whimper that escaped them as they rocked
gently into the wet heat of his mouth, eagerly riding curled digits as a second
finger entered, hitting that one spot that made them fall apart.
They damn near whined
when he withdrew, his face flushed, eyes lidded. ‘Fuck, August,’ he groaned, spinning them around, his chest meeting
their back. August’s palms pressed against the scratched surface of the desk
for balance, their hips flush against his as he curled against them, one hand
reaching around to their front to stroke languidly. ‘I missed you.’
They didn’t have time for a glib reply; with a steady roll
of his hips he pushed inside, that familiar burning stretch making their toes
curl. August arched their back in pleasure, unable to stop themselves from
crying out as Sylvian thrust into them, his fingers digging little imprints
into the flesh above their hips. His hand cupped their cheek, turning their
face towards him, and their moan was muffled by his mouth, tongues meeting in a
slick tangle, tasting of wine and heat and sex.
‘You’re so beautiful, August,’ Sylvian murmured when they
broke apart for air, running the tip of his tongue along sweat-slicked skin as August’s
head lolled back onto his shoulder, their breath coming out in broken, ragged pants.
They both heard a sudden, sharp knock on the door, and Sylvian
clapped a hand over August’s mouth.
‘Enforcer Willenheim?’ someone called, and August shuddered
as Sylvian slowed, each steady, slick glide driving them closer to the edge.
‘Ssh,’ Sylvian whispered in their ear, still thrusting against
them, maintaining that maddeningly slow pace. ‘Just be patient.’ They could
feel him grinning at their muffled whimper, the only response they could manage
at the moment.
August groaned in frustration, pushing back against him,
desperate for more of that heat, more of him,
and his hips stuttered, fisting their cock, his mouth pressing damp kisses
against their neck. One hard, deep
thrust was all it took, and they spilled over his fingers, their cry muffled by
his hand as he bucked against them. He pressed his lips hard against their shoulder
blade as his own climax hit him, stifling his groan, wet heat splashing against
their thighs.
‘Enforcer?’ the voice called out again. There was a long
silence, and then they both heard heavy boots stomping away. Sylvian laughed
against August’s shoulder, lowering his hand from their mouth. August grinned
as well, in spite of themselves, turning to face him.
‘I hate you,’ they told him, and he pressed a brief kiss to
their nose.
“Do it. Take a chance, I’m begging you. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.”
Anon, I’m sorry because I doubt this is what you expected when asking for this prompt, but sometimes I’m just Like That.
Very NSFW. Enter at your own peril.
The Hunter had never felt quite so… surrounded.
He’d been circled by a coven of cursed Witches, cornered by a pack of ravenous Lycans, even stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean with a patient Siren at his feet, and yet…
Being naked and sandwiched between a handsome Witch and a smirking Vampire was a thing that those terrifying scenarios couldn’t even come close to matching on the intimidation meter.
It wasn’t very often a man such as himself felt powerless, but he’s more than willing to let them have their way. He trusts them implicitly, without question, and earlier that evening when he’d admitted he’d never done a certain thing, the look they threw each other had a shiver rolling down his spine.
“Do it. Take a chance, I’m begging you,” Ezra had said, emerald eyes sparkling with the knowledge of a man that knew what he was talking about, like a cultist preaching to the masses, long converted to this particular cause.
Finn had then entered the room, a bottle of vintage single malt in-hand, offering him a convincing smirk and words that rolled off his tongue like warm honey. “You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been, do you?”
That was all it took.
Half a bottle of whiskey later, he finds himself with hands dragging down his thighs, one flesh, one iron, both cold and eager as Finn leaves a cool kiss against the base of his spine.
Ezra looks down at him where he’s pressed close, splayed against his chest and craning his neck to catch the Witches lips in a kiss, Ezra swallowing the groan that forms as Finn’s fangs graze along his inner thigh.
Firm hands knead his buttocks, those lips that press against the small of his back traveling lower, lower, until he’s arching against the sheets, against Ezra.
I love your writing so very much; everyone feels so genuine, like I'm actually I their heads. Could you write Finn experiencing top drop and Ezra helping him through it and just being wonderful about aftercare?
NSFW.
Ezra has his own special kind of ‘aftercare’.
Whenever Finn is with Ezra it’s like a madness overtakes him, something primal and urgent, something not human.
He fights the urge to tug when his fingers coil into dark curls. He fights the urge to bite down on kiss-swollen lips and taste the copper-sweet blood that would coat his tongue. He fights the urge to suck bruises into russet skin and mark him in every way he possibly can.
But the moment Ezra gasps beneath him, all of that supposedly iron-clad resolve seems to melt away.
It terrifies him, how much he wants him, how he could hurt him with the simplest of touches. The control he’s sustained over these last few centuries wavers with Ezra, and tonight is no exception.
Fingers dig into his skin, pulling him closer, the noises that fall from the Witches lips desperate as he loses his mind beneath him.
Harder, please. Finn…
Finn growls, hating the noise as it tears from his throat, but he obliges and pushes deeper into the eager, tight clench of his body, harder, faster, anything he wants.
Ezra loses his breath, his face twisted in his pleasure, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
It’s wild, quick, brutal, all of the things that Ezra pleads for in the rapidly firing thoughts that flow through his mind.
Toes curled, breath quick, sweat beading upon his skin, and Finn watches as he falls apart, laying beneath him in a boneless, sated sprawl.
He rolls away, lays beside him and listens to the quicksilver thrum of his heart, and it’s fast, too fast. Finn turns to cup his face in big hands, staring into blown-black, unfocused emerald eyes. “Ezra…”
The lazy smile that crosses his lips is nothing short of gorgeous, but as Finn looks a little closer he can see where he’s kissed him too hard, where his fangs sunk deep into the column of his throat, where fingertips have bruised his hips, waist, thighs.
He groans, thumbs stroking over still-flushed cheekbones. “I’m sorry. I… fuck. I’m sorry.”
Ezra scrambles to sit up, reaching for him where he pulls away, and the little hiss of pain as he moves doesn’t go unnoticed. “Hey, what are you sorry for?”
A warm hand upon his face, another upon his chest as Ezra lazily drapes himself over him, impossible to ignore, impossible to resist. Finn splays his iron palm over the base of his spine, sighing heavily as Ezra looks up at him with wide, curious eyes, waiting for a response.
“I hurt you. I lost control.”
Ezra snorts a laugh, the noise causing Finn to quirk a dark brow in question. “Finn,” he whispers, reaching up to brush a lock of raven hair back from his face. “You know I like that, right? That I asked you, that I… I need that, sometimes?”
Finn narrows his golden eyes, earning a quiet laugh from Ezra, a swat to his chest. “You’ll hear no lies in there, Finnegan,” he purrs, edging closer, nose to nose. “Now, come here and stop pouting. I’m fine, more than fine.”
He kisses Finn with reverence, with love, swallowing the quiet little noises that form on the tip of Ezra’s tongue, holding him close. He feels something kindling, in the pit of his stomach, a renewed interest as Ezra writhes against him.
He breaks away, eyes meeting Ezra’s, a question.
Ezra’s answering kiss says all he needs to know, the not-so-subtle clues of his body and mind making him forget every apprehension he has.
The way their mouths move together is demanding, frightening, perfect, and Finn willingly loses himself all over again.
smut 17 - “Oh my God, do that again.” for Ezra x Finnegan? god I can't get enough of these two...
So, a few people showed ahem interest I’m bottom!Finn after my Finnriel earlier.
Ask and ye shall *cough* receive. NSFW (duh)
_____________
Ezra’s fingers walk over the dip and curve of Finn’s muscles, over rib, tracing the dark crescent moon etched upon his chest. Finn growls, impatient, but Ezra doesn’t take his eyes off that bared expanse of perfect, pale skin.
He is the hunter tonight, and Finn the prey.
Emerald locks with burning gold, and Ezra leans in, lips tracing the shell of a pointed ear, littering kisses over his jaw until finds his waiting lips. He stakes his claim, teeth and tongue and eager.
It’s possessive, a taste of Finn’s own perfectly crafted medicine as he nips and sucks at the flesh of his throat. He may not have fangs or teeth that can draw blood from a Vampire’s skin, but he has the most wonderful time trying.
He reaches up and cups Finn’s face in his hands, pausing to look at him, really look at him, and then he’s kissing him deeply, as if his lips could quench a desperate thirst.
“Ezra,” Finn purrs, his name dying on the tip of his tongue, and Ezra is enthralled with the way it feels so different when he’s the one swallowing a broken plea.
He pulls back, wondering how Finn’s too-perfect face would look kissed pink, if colour could bloom beneath his cheeks, at his chest.
Finn huffs a sharp laugh, hearing those skittering thoughts, his fingers twitching where they’ve settled upon Ezra’s waist. “If I could blush, I’d be beet red. Just for you.”
Ezra smiles, biting his lip in the way he knows drives Finn mad, pushing the soft pad of his thumb against a sharp fang as he opens his mouth for him, Finn hissing as a tiny droplet of blood is smeared across his bottom lip, tongue flicking out to swipe away the crimson.
He’s been deviant all day, winding Ezra up at any given opportunity. Soft, light touches, quick kisses that linger, whispered words, filthy promises. It’s been painful, a deep ache rooted in the pit of Ezra’s stomach, one he now intends to quell.
Finn watches as Ezra runs a hand over a firm thigh, the shift of corded muscle beneath his skin almost making the Witch snap, making him want to be the one bent over, to feel that powerful body behind him, inside him.
Instead he clings to his resolve, urging Finn to turn, to dutifully fall to his knees just as he promised he would if Ezra ever needed it this badly.
The curve of his spine, the swell of his ass, a chill rolling over him when he remembers what it is that he’s about to do. He positions himself, careful, steady, Finn looking at him over his shoulder, that wicked glint still present in his gaze until Ezra surges forward.
Another growl, a primal thing as Ezra sheaths himself to the hilt, his eyes rolling back in his head as he becomes aquatinted with the way Finn feels around him.
Like a welcome chill on a summers day, somehow still scorching, blinding no matter how cold he truly is.
Finn is perfect, deliciously tight, and his hips starting to move in a teasing little rhythm, a stuttered groan in Ezra’s throat as he somehow claws back his control, even as Finn greedily fucks himself on Ezra’s cock.
“Come on, Ezra,” he says, reaching between his legs to curl iron fingertips around his length, stroking, pumping. “You said you wanted to make me forget my name, and yet I still remember…”
Ezra is the one growling now, determined as he begins to move with purpose, punishing thrusts that he knows would knock the air from Finn’s lungs if he could breathe.
Finn laughs, a low, throaty chuckle as Ezra hits that spot that makes his toes curl. “Unh… that’s it, do that again.”
Ezra’s eyes flutter closed as he obliges, banishing the sight of Finn beneath him from his sight, lest he completely lose himself.
Too fast, too good.
“F-fuck, Finn… I…”
A deep pleasure, a power stirs within when he feels Finn tighten around him, leaning in to press kisses to the knobs of his spine as the Vampire strokes himself to his finish with a loud choked-off cry.
He reaches for Finn’s chin, tugging at him so he can see his face as he comes, to match his expression with that sinful noise, the noise that makes his toes curl against the sheets.
There’s a self-satisfied smirk on his lips when Ezra begins to falter, sweat beading at his brow as he reaches out, a hand around Finn’s neck, lips at his shoulder.
“You feel so good,” he mutters, meaning it, wondering how anyone could possibly be this perfect, waiting for a cocky, ‘I know,’ to fall from those full lips, but it doesn’t come.
It’s difficult now to keep his eyes open, a strangled noise in the back of his throat, breath heavy, mouth open, and he looks deep into Finn’s eyes as he lets go.
Finn groans his approval, wetness across his thighs as Ezra slowly pulls away, hands soothing over his spine, admiring the rare sight before him.
“Fuck, Finnegan,” Ezra smirks, fingertips numb, stars still bursting behind his eyelids as he collapses against Finn’s chest. Boneless, sated.
Finn holds him close, listens to his rapidly thrumming pulse return to normal, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose as he drifts off.
I'm not sure which one to pick but I wanted to prompt you both angst and smut. Maybe you can put them together? 💖
Angsty smut, huh? I mean, I can try? I can’t guarantee
quality, but… I’ll give it a go! 😅
The old, iron bed creaked in a steady rhythm, but thankfully
there was no-one around to hear.
August sighed with pleasure as Sylvian’s lips slowly worked
from their collarbone to their jaw, damp mouth kissing every inch of skin he
could find, the tip of his tongue swirling over the sharp swell of their
throat. Blunt nails raked across olive skin as he thrust into them, each movement
working them into a frenzy, needing more of that,
more of him, needing Sylvian like
they needed air.
Strong, firm hands greedily kneaded the flesh of their firm
thighs, currently wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him close to them, a
silent plea for more, please more. He
obliged, restless hands caressing their skin, their every nerve alight under
his expert touch, his breath ghosting over their ear. The only light came from the slit in the curtains, moonlight falling
across the small room in the tavern. Neither of them had had the patience to
light any candles.
He managed to snag their wrists, pinning them above their
head, their whimper of protest only making his grin widen. The way their bodies
seamed together made August arch up, needing more of that contact, the heat. With their
hands trapped, they couldn’t touch him anymore, which just wasn’t fair… With a wicked smile, August bit the
long muscle underneath his ear.
In the dark, they couldn’t see his scar.
Sylvian went rigid, as though struck by lightning, and
suddenly August remembered. Oh shit. The
bite… How could I forget? Seconds passed by in silence, and they could
almost hear his fight for control, to just ignore the sudden fear, the sudden memory. Then he released their wrists,
pushing himself up and away from them, propped up on his hands, breathing hard.
He didn’t completely withdraw, and August’s legs were still wrapped around his
waist, but the sudden loss of his body heat nearly made them gasp, the room
temperature seeming bitingly cold in comparison.
‘Sylvian?’ They reached up, trying to find his face, fingers
brushing against his black fringe. Maybe we should have lit the candles. ‘Sylv-’
‘I’m all right,’ he said, huffing a shaky laugh. ‘That just… freaked me out a bit.’
That’s my fault.
They swallowed guiltily. I did that, I forgot.
They opened their mouth, intending to tell him they were sorry, but he stole
the words with a hard kiss. ‘Don’t you dare,’
he growled against their mouth, the sound sending shivers skittering over their
skin. ‘I don’t want an apology.’
They were trying to be patient, to be sympathetic, but they
were so hard that it hurt, their hips
twitching up, having to bite their lip to stifle a whimper. Sylvian noticed, of
course he noticed, and he rolled his
hips slowly, testing. August groaned, grasping desperately at his arms, needing
more but afraid to ask now.
He grinned in the dark, leaning down to graze their bottom
lip with his teeth, sucking away the sting. August’s back arched up to meet
him, still not sure if they could voice their demands, but the laugh that
rumbled in his chest chased away their hesitation.
‘Please, Sylva,’ they murmured, the words breaking apart on
a moan as he moved again, each slow, slick glide driving them insane. They
arched against him, finding his mouth in the dark, tongues a tangle of heat, before
their head snapped back against the pillows, crying out at their climax hit
them hard.
Pearl beads spilled over their stomach, the sight pushing
Sylvian to the edge as well, groaning their name into their shoulder, fingers
wound so tight into their hair. They
both lay in the dark, seamed together, breathless and giddy with the feeling of
each other.
Finally, Sylvian let out a contented sigh. ‘I could just
fall asleep, right here.’
August was glad to see his momentary fear had passed, loving
the feel of him in their arms, the muscle shifting beneath his skin. But… ‘Please
don’t, you’re heavy.’
‘Oi!’ He laughed, ragged, breathless, and rolled onto his
side. ‘I’m not that heavy.’ He smiled
at the little pfft of amusement that August made as they snuggled against him. His hand was already in their hair, stroking gently, brushing loose strands of silk back over their shoulder. ‘Bath,
then bed?’
The gentle creak of weathered wood as the Hunter thrusts into them echoes off of old brick, and August’s head snaps up as the Hunter whimpers, the blue of their eyes barely visible around blown-black. “Try to stay quiet, do you understand?”
He nods, a sly smile forming on his lips, fingers digging into August’s firm thighs for leverage as he rolls his hips a little harder, trying to make them break their own rules.
August bites their lip hard, chin falling to rest upon their chest as they expertly stifle a groan, the control they have utterly infuriating.
Though, the Hunter can see little flaws in their resolve, their knuckles bleeding white where they grip the edge of their desk, the way the flush upon their cheeks and chest darkens.
He will break them, no matter how they cling to their composure.
“August, will you look at me?”
They shake their head, lips falling open on a sharp breath as he moves a hand to curl around the hardness between their thighs, stroking languidly, a slick, perfect glide. “N-no, I will not,” they growl, hissing through clenched teeth.
They hook their ankles together behind his back, the leather of their boots creaking as they urge him closer, lashes fluttering closed as he sinks deeper, harder, faster.
His pace is relentless now, the desk protesting loudly beneath them, and if August should be worried about any noise startling their colleagues, it should be that.
Please give us one of August's spicy secrets that they would love if the Hunter did in bed but would also make them kill us if we ever found out. (a risk I'm willing to take, fight me August)
They’ve always fantasized about someone bending them over their desk in HQ…
A familiar and satisfying red creeps into the Hunter’s cheeks as Ezra pushes them down against the mattress, his nose moving softly over their jaw, up, up over their cheek, temple. The Hunter laughs as Ezra whispers in their ear, his answering smile something that Finn knows would take his breath away if he could breathe.
He sits back in his chair, chin resting on a crooked finger, and he doesn’t have to wonder what they’re thinking, a simple push affording him access to every deep, dark little thought that scatters through their minds.
Don’t take your eyes off us.
Finn can’t help but lean forward as a muffled moan of pleasure falls from Ezra’s lips, arching into them, the Hunter chasing his lips as he moves to pull away just an inch, as if each of Ezra’s kisses ruins them, but the promise of another will put them back together again.
Finn. Finnegan.
Ezra’s thoughts are the loudest, a symphony of whispered words, words that Finn knows are meant to lure him in, to break his stubborn resolve, but he relents, gripping the arms of the chair hard enough to rip the leather as they move together as one upon his bed.
They feel so good. Don’t you want to feel? Feel us both…
Finn bites his bottom lip, his fang scraping soft skin, the faintest taste of copper on his tongue, their movements becoming desperate. The Hunter’s head falls to the side, knuckles pressed to their mouth to stifle a groan, and Finn almost snaps, almost shouts for them not to hide, to let him hear.
Instead Ezra curls long fingers around their wrist, pins both hands above their head and mutters a firm, “No.”
Just like you do to me. Shall I bruise them too?
“Ezra…” the name is ripped from their throat, aching, thick with want and lust and all the things Finn’s feeling, trying to fight.
Finn senses it before they probably do, the rush, the tightening of muscles, the imminent release, and he can no long stand it. He palms himself through his trousers, back arching as he finally feels that friction he’s been so desperately craving.
Close, close, close.
He greedily touches himself as they fall apart, Ezra’s hips stuttering through his finish, their faces beautifully flushed, heartbeats violent, loud, and Finn’s mouth waters from the sound of blood pumping thick and harsh through their veins, dreaming of pressing his teeth to the column of each of their throats and sinking deep, drinking them dry.
Ezra’s emerald gaze snaps to him as he pulls away from them, and he smiles.
So I saw that quotes ask where August’s is “Don’t go” and I was wondering if we could get something with them and a m!hunter based on that? I love that you’re doing some WTNC writings, it makes me even more excited for the game to come out 💕
NSFW under the cut
_____________
August has something that feels a lot like happiness heavy in their chest, a bliss as they kiss their lover.
They feel the smile upon the Hunter’s lips, his hands pushing into August’s hair, body to body as they lay bare beneath crumpled sheets, unable to stop touching, exploring one another.
It’s new, this ache that settles. It’s no longer one of loneliness, of sadness, but instead it’s… hope. Hope for more, for this to be something permanent, and that’s dangerous.
The Hunter pulls back, his eyes slowly opening, looking up at August, the lightest trace of colour upon his cheeks, and August gets lost, wrapped up in his eyes, and they feel their chest stutter at the sight of the longing that they find there.
They want to speak, to ask him to stay, please stay, but words turn to ashes in their mouth, because something that they feel so deeply, something this foreign, is hard to explain.
The Hunter chases away the frown that unconsciously forms upon August’s brow as he hovers above them, kissing it away with the barest brush of his lips. His fingertips find their face, tracing a sharp cheekbone, the harsh line of their jaw. “You’re impossibly beautiful, do you know that? As if you were crafted from marble.”
August swallows thickly, catches his wrist with a curl of long fingertips. “Bold words,” they whisper, angry at the way their voice cracks, betraying them.
The Hunter quirks an eyebrow in question, but he doesn’t hesitate to press himself closer, August opening their mouth to him without question, the kiss tongue and teeth, wet and riddled with want. His hands slide down August’s waist, over the curve of them, the tight muscle of them still soft as if shifts under his palm.
They’ve already done this dance tonight, but the ache that settles between August’s thighs tells them they need more, always more with him. “August,” he whispers, almost a purr as he scrapes his teeth over the tensed column of their throat, tracing his tongue over marks that are already fading.
August gasps against his mouth as the Hunter curls his fingers around their length, careful strokes that elicit quiet groans, whimpers, his hand tight between their bodies, a delicious friction for both of them. Their breathing shifts, changes, hitched and fast as the Hunter swipes his thumb over the crown of their cock, spreads the wetness that beads there down, down in a slick glide, his touch here as expert and deadly as it is in the field.
“I’m going to—“ August mumbles, looking up at him, his gaze burning bright in the darkness, that look still there, like August truly is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with their face flushed, unfocused eyes helplessly fluttering closed, strands of hair sweeping over their sweat-slick forehead, snarling about their cheeks.
He’s still looking, seemingly committing August’s features to memory, just… making them feel like they’re this wondrous thing, something so much more than August could ever dream of being. The Hunter catches them with another desperate kiss, their hips rocking together, his hand still tight around them, coaxing.
They find their bliss together, the Hunter arching, tense and devastating above them as he muffles a groan into the crook of August’s neck, August staring up at the ceiling, fingers digging into the muscle of his back as they let their toes curl against the mattress, let that sweet thrill of release wash over them.
He shifts, and something ingrained inside of August makes them panic, hold him tighter, closer, a whispered, shaky, “Don’t go,” falling from their lips, and they feel weak.
The Hunter carefully draws back, just an inch or so, enough for August to see confusion settle upon his handsome face, then a flicker of recognition as he finds fear in August’s blue eyes.
“Oh, August. No. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiles, soft before he’s cupping August’s face in strong hands, pressing an achingly gentle kiss to their lips, one that hurts their heart, makes them feel safe, wanted.