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.