Anonymous asked: 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?
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.
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 know you meant like,,, sexy showering
but consider this
one of their first hunts together went Horribly Wrong and its a double blank stare in the shower @haonqq im sorry
anguish hugs
Everything had been fine aside from a couple distant looks all the way up until they finished their reports, still talking and interacting. But the closer they got to the inn, the quieter and more.. closed off things had become.
Sloane took a heavy breath, watching the ground as she pushed open the door and slipped inside, making a beeline for the stairs.
Sajhuin caught her around the shoulder just as she got to the door to her own room, steering her away towards theirs and guiding her inside and into the bathroom.
“We’re going to take a shower, alright? Get all this blood off us.” Sajhuin drew a gentle hand through Sloane’s hair, smoothing it back behind her ear. “Okay?” They leaned forward, tilting their head slightly until Sloane nodded slightly.
Sajhuin slipped away for a moment, turning on the water and heating it up before moving back over to Sloane and stripping her down with careful, gentle hands. After Sloane was bare, they moved her into the shower before stripping themselves and joining her, letting out a slight hiss at the growing bruise on their side.
Sloane bit on her lip and faced away from them before Sajhuin caught her by the arm and turned her to face them, cupping a cheek with their hand. “It wasn’t your fault.” Sloane winces away from their hand at the statement like it pains her.
“Sloane..” They sigh and move forward again, drawing their hands through her hair, moving some of it away from her face and cupping both her cheeks, the distant look her her face wrenching their heart.
They pull her close, wrapping their arms around her and pressing her back against the cold shower wall. “Stay with me baby, just stay with me..” Their words are soft, spoken right as Sloane’s ear before they kiss her cheek.
Sloane shudders under them, reaching up to hold onto Sajhuin, face twisting as tears welled in her eyes. Her grip is painful on their sore body, but they don’t say anything, wrapping a hand around to curl into her hair, bringing her closer as she begins to shake more with fresh tears.
“I’m sorry, Jhuni…” Her voice is soft and broken, cracking as she finally speaks. Sajhuin shakes their head gently, giving her a light squeeze.
“Shh, baby, it’s alright now. Everything is alright, just breathe, let it out. Just stay with me…”
—
Heard u wanted me to share :3c
I suggestedshowersex~ but thishappenedinstead 👀💚🤭🤭
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.