#BR LET ME STOP WITH THE TAGS.

[cucosbiggestfan]

heh.. how we feelin chat!.. 😜🤫

[killjoy-prince]

they're considered deep route bc once you're on their route they're in too deep

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[funds4gaza]

This GFM is hosted by me, I met Alaa and Haitham because we have a common friend that is from Gaza but is now residing in Egypt. Alaa and Haitham are 2 brothers that lost their entire family when Israel bombed their home.

Because of some issues I will have to stop hosting their GFM by the end of the month, I am trying to find a new host but so far I wasn't able to find anyone.

Until I have to close the GFM I would love to help them gather some more funds, can you pls help me share this?

Tagging for reach pls let me know if you don't wanna be tagged.

Thank you!!

@papenathys @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap @fiqrr

@irhabiya @feluka @anneemay @tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3

@paandaan @itsfookingloosah @himejoshikaeya

@colombinna @br-eddrolls @0luna123 @block-swing-perry

@divineclouds @error-core-animations @juneybug @apocalyptic-dancehall @kingofthebookcase

@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @three-croissants

@specialmouse @thehollyraven @the-olive-gardens

@transmutationisms @timetravellingkitty

@schoolhater @pcktknife

@wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim

@7bitter @tortiefrancis @buttercuparry

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans

@ot3 @amygdalae @lonniemachin @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @vakarians-babe @naetaesarya

@sayruq @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost @nabulsi

@sar-soor @appsa @northgazaupdates2 @aria-ashryver @timetravellingkitty @briarhips

@dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @khanger

@commissions4aid-international @kibumkim @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @neechees @kyri45 @mangocheesecakes @marnota @7biases @tortiefrancis @fromjannah

@criptochecca @omegaversereloaded @ot3

@vague-humanoid @lacecap @yugiohz @nibeul

[salsakiyoomi]

i ii

“what are we?”

sukuna's hand stops it's caressing gesture on your arms and he lets out a sigh, “i told you not to ask that question.”

your head was laying on his chest, the both of you naked after some fun in his bed after the ‘make up’ the two of you had.

you let out a huff at his words, “come on, you can’t seriously expect me to be your plaything forever.”

he pauses and a frown is on his face, his words spoken quietly, “you…you’re not my plaything.” he says.

your head perks up, “then what am i?”

truth is, sukuna doesn’t know what you are to him, all he knows is that he’s addicted to you, you fulfilled some deep desire within him that no other had before.

but he knew for damn sure that he didn’t consider you his plaything.

at his pause, you speak up, “you can’t expect us to be like that forever, ryomen.”

“i told you already, i don’t do love,” he says, “if you’re looking for a relationship, i am not the guy.”

“you are.” you say.

he scoffs at your face — him? love? that’s just pathetic.

“and what makes you say that?”

“because you haven’t dropped me yet.” you say, almost smug about the fact.

“that doesn’t mean anything,” he says, a frown on his tattooed face.

“it does, you just don’t realize that yet,” you say and he wonders how you can read him like a book.

another pause, he doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say — you had him wrapped around your finger and now you were aware of it, you knew the effect you had on him.

he was addicted to you and now you knew it, all that was left was for him to come to terms with the fact.

if he ever comes to terms with it.

you let out a sigh, a little heartbroken maybe but you expected nothing more from him, you get up from bed, throwing him a glance, “come back to me when you’ve finally figured it out, i’ll be waiting.”

well, fuck.

tagging : @strxberryicecream for your submission <33 there will br part two trust 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[sonolynn]

Comfort

summary | Aemond isn't lovable, he never has been. In his insecurity he finds you. He always finds you.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

tags | not proof read (when is it ever), mentions of death, grief, killing of innocents, war crimes (kinda), low-key shitting writing I'm not gonna play with ya'll. Genuinely just angst

w.c. | 1.4 k

note(s) | Loosely based off of Conan Gray's "Alley Rose". This is literally pulled from my ass cause I wanna write but I didn't know what to write so I'm just going off the dome.

___________________________________________

Aemond was a vice. He corrupted everything he touched and everyone he loved. He made the wind stop singing and the moon stop shining. At least, that was what everyone had told him, or made him, believe. 

But you were different. Somehow in this dark and cruel world Aemond found a beacon of light. He found you. You made him feel. Anything. Everything. All at once. He felt overwhelmed with you; How could someone like you-internally unsullied and outwardly unbroken by the horrors and disappointments of life-be so comforting to him, and yet also find comfort in him. 

___________________________________________

He laid his head on your chest, his large hands gripping your sides as you ran your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, sighing as he melted in the embrace. You two said nothing yet a million things at once. “You’re safe with me.” “I love you.” “You’re going to be okay.” All these things circulated Aemond’s mind instead of the normal, self deprecated thoughts that lead him to do drastic things. 

He looked up at you, his eye softening as he caught you already staring at him. He breathed out slowly, his large palm stroking your sides absentmindedly. 

“You keep me sane.” He whispered, staring into your eyes as he slowly trailed kisses up your naked body. “Sane…comforted…” He murmured, his eye fluttering closed at the feeling of your soft skin against his chapped lips. “Loved.” He finally breathed out, before resting his forehead against the side of your neck. He’d often do this, breathing words that seemingly didn’t make sense, but felt like small praises to you. 

You smiled, looking down at your hands. You slowly laced your hands with his, admiring how they looked together-as if these two specific pairs of hands were always meant to melt into the hold of each other. 

“I am glad I can be such a comfort to you, Aemond. Just as you are to me.” You breathed out, bringing his hand up and kissing his knuckles. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you feel comforted by me when I am so broken?” 

You paused for a moment, thinking over your answer as you played with his long fingers. 

“Broken things can be mended.” 

“Sometimes I fear that I am too broken to be mended.” He sighed heavily, closing his eye and nuzzling his head against your neck.

“Perhaps it is the broken pieces that make you Aemond Targaryen. Perhaps it is the fact that you are so easily broken down that makes you the man that you are.” You replied. 

“That man sounds weak.” He scoffed, his hands tightening slightly around your hand and waist. He always feared that he would lose you. He would never leave you, you were too precious to him. You were too much of a comfort to him to let go, which in truth, is why he thought that you’d leave him someday. He depended on you and your comfort so much that he feared at times, it could be suffocating. 

But you didn’t mind. When you saw Aemond, you saw the broken boy of his youth, deprived of what he could have had; Love, affection, acceptance. You wished to give such things to him. You wished to make him want for nothing, as long as he had you. 

“That man sounds vulnerable,” You corrected, pulling away from him slightly to stare down into his lilac eye. “Vulnerability is what carves connection, Aemond.” At your words he hummed, sighing heavily as he replied, 

“Vulnerability kills people like me.” “Only if you are vulnerable to the wrong people.” She breathed out, remembering all the times he tried to be vulnerable with his mother, only to have her manipulate and abuse the vulnerability to try and get into her son’s mind. 

“Everyone seems to be the wrong person.” He replied. 

“Everyone? Even me?” You asked. 

“No. Never you.” He answered. 

___________________________________________

“You burned down Sharp Point?” You questioned, and the offense in your tone almost made Aemond flinch. Aemond clenched his jaw, holding his hands behind his back as he looked out over the terrace. 

“It needed to be done.” “Why? To prove your worth? Solidify the fact that you will stop at nothing if it means to gain something?” You almost laughed at the notion, and Aemond’s anger got stronger. How dare you question him? The Prince Regent, the protector of the realm? 

“I have my reasons.” He answered. 

“Reasons you have yet to share with me-” “I needn’t share everything I do with you. You have no taste for political jargon such as this.” You scoffed as he spoke, staring up at him in disbelief. 

“Political Jargon? Aemond you killed and harmed innocents.” 

“The cost of war.” Your heart stopped. You didn’t expect him to be so callous, so heartless when it came to the very civilians that the crown deepened on. Suddenly, he continued, “I must go to Harrenhal.” 

“Why?”

“To face my uncle.”

“And if you die?” 

“At least it will be done in battle.” He spoke, you softened. Aemond would never admit it, but he did fear death, the great beyond that no one knew about nor wished to experience. You stepped forward, gently wrapping your hand around his. A gesture not of forgiveness-you thought that you could never forgive him, for being so cruel-but a gesture of comfort. Because even if Aemond was a cruel man, he was no monster, at least not in the depths of his heart. And even if he was, monster’s needed comfort too. 

___________________________________________

The next morning Aemond would leave for Harrenhal. You watched as he readied his horse to ride to Vhagar. You studied him, looking for any signs of anxiety or uncertainty. But of course, you saw none. Aemond was good at the mask he wore, good at keeping it on but never good at taking it off. 

You stepped forward, taking his hand in both of yours. He looked down at your hands for a moment, before he sighed and brought the hand up to his lips. 

“I will return.” He murmured, kissing the soft skin of your knuckles. You smiled at the feeling, sighing softly as you spoke, 

“I have no doubts that you won’t.” Aemond seemed pleased by this. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a quick, hurried manner before pulling away. He studied you for a moment, not because he was afraid to forget your face in the eye of death, but because he needed a reminder of what he wished to come home to, of what was at stake. 

___________________________________________ 

The news of Aemond’s death came to you quickly, and in the dead of night as you sat by the fire. A guard had come to you with the news. 

Your husband has passed, princess. At the hands of Daemon Targaryen. 

You felt your world crumble and your very being shaken. He had died, fighting like a true Targaryen. Yet the notion did not comfort you. It did not bring you solace to know that your husband had died like a Targaryen. You had longed for his arms, for his loving gaze and gentle caresses. 

Grief did not even begin to describe how much pain you felt. You had lost your husband, your childhood friend, everything that you had based yourself around; your past, present, and your future, gone. 

You screamed, as the servants gossiped, for days. You cried until your eyes bled, and you screamed until your throat felt as though it would throw itself up. 

You blamed Alicent for making her son like this. You blamed Viserys for never being there. You blamed Daemon for landing the killing blow on your husband. But, you feared that above all you blamed yourself. 

You could not have stopped the murder of your husband, nor his inevitable death, but the idea-the slightest notion-that you could have held him back for mere moments, or that you could have asked him to suspend the trip, genuinely anything to make him stay. Yet you didn’t, and the idea gnawed at you. 

Not even a full moon after Aemond’s death you died of what only the Maester’s could describe as heartbreak. And in the afterlife he waited for you. And there was light in the darkness again.

___________________________________________

Not proud of this one guys 🫠

[lizzieisright]

Tranquility

dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: You want to help Abby relax and show her she doesn't have to control everything, sometimes she just can let go.

Tags: dom!reader, fingering, praise, consent checks, Abby doesn't really notice she is subbing, very light and vanilla, Sylvia Plath's quotes.

wc: 3.7k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You don't jump into power dynamics right away when you get together: Abby doesn't even think about it too much - she just assumes since between the two of you she is the killing machine, big strong scary Abby Anderson, she'll be in charge like she is everywhere else. And you don't seem to mind, even though you had the sex talk way prior to having actual sex (I can't bottom every time if it's something you want, you said to her, and Abby agreed: she liked topping but she could bottom just fine). 

So the thought of power dynamics doesn't come to Abby at all, until one day. 

You are too good at reading Abby's mood - for some reason you can notice even the small shift in her. It's a superpower that creeps Abby out sometimes, how you can recognise her feelings and act accordingly. You don't make a scene out of it, you don't take care of her like she is a child who can't regulate her emotions, but you're there through it all. You're not scared of her anger or her tears, always calm, and for the first time in years Abby feels like she can rely on someone. Can trust someone fully. 

And today Abby is on edge. She is tired, angry and frustrated - the plan for the next supply run isn't safe in her opinion. Abby likes her plans to be foolproof, "if you think they're smart enough think again and dumb it down" type of fool-proof. Everyone said Abby was being ridiculous about it, and maybe she was, but it doesn't make her feel any better. 

And you obviously notice it. You watch her from the couch as Abby walks around packing, huffing every two seconds in anger. 

"I saw that plan, Abby, it's good. Everything will be fine. Manageable if something goes wrong."

"Jamie is on the team, and this idiot will get us in trouble." Abby growls. "And then someone will have to clean up his mess and someone will get hurt and it will slow us down-"

"Okay. Okay, Abs, stop." You put your book away. "Come here, you need to relax." You pat your lap and Abby stares at you before laughing.

"What, you want me to sit in your lap?" Abby asks sceptically. 

"Yeah." You pat your lap again. Abby is unsure and she feels ridiculous: she is not a lap dog, she is a fucking German shepherd.

"I'm too big to sit in your lap, baby." 

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" You deadpan. "Big girls need to sit on their lover's lap too. Come here."

Abby blinks. She likes that she is big and tall - it makes her feel powerful, but it comes with a cost. She doesn't get to feel small. And you asking her to sit on your lap opens something so desperate in her she gets scared. Abby knows she won't feel small, but she wants to try anyway. Abby tentatively makes her way to you, still unsure how it will work, but you tug her lightly and she straddles you. Abby feels like she is a giant on top of you, and she doesn't really remember where to put her hands. She settles on your shoulders.

"This is awkward." Abby assesses, frowning. 

"It's not. Sit, Abby, I can feel that you're hovering. I'm not going to break, I'm not made of dust." You push at her thighs so she can spread them and finally sit. You seem pretty happy with this, hugging her by her waist and pressing her closer to you. Abby is getting used to this, but it still seems ridiculous to her. She is used to tugging you to sit on her lap, not the other way around. 

"Am I too heavy?"

"I like feeling your weight on me. Makes it feel real." You grin and stroke her back. "Really, relax. I can read to you if you want."

Abby doesn't really know what to do. She has no arguments against you, and your lap is very comfortable. As well as being this close to you, feeling your body, your breathing, your warmth. 

"Yeah, okay. We can do that."

Abby does what you usually do when she reads: she puts her head on your shoulder and lets you snake your arms around her. 

"Good." You comment and hold the book with one hand while you stroke Abby's back with the other one. 

You are warm and your smell is comforting, so Abby puts her nose into the crook of your neck and breathes in.

"Yeah. Breathe. Deep big breaths." You say offhandedly as you look through the pages. It's weird. Abby feels safe and taken care of and it feels good, but it is too unfamiliar to be comfortable with it. 

"Would it be too childish of me to say: I want? But I do want: theater, light, color, paintings, wine and wonder. Yet not all these can do more than try to lure the soul from its den where it sulks in busy heaps of filth and obstinate clods of bloody pulp. I must find a core of fruitful seeds in me. I must stop identifying with the seasons, because this English winter will be the death of me-" You've read out loud and Abby suddenly resonates with the first line. Would it be too childish of her to say: she wants your care? 

"What is this?"

"Sylvia Plath's diaries."

"She sounds dramatic." Abby murmurs into your neck while you are caressing her back. Fuck it feels so good. She is so safe. 

"Bitch is all over the place sometimes. But she is a poet."

You kiss Abby's head and she leans into your touch, surprising herself. She isn't usually… needy, but right now something is different. The sudden safety of your arms around her, your calm voice and familiar smell makes Abby feel dangerously vulnerable. 

"You feel pretty relaxed." You notice as you now stroking her head, putting all annoying baby hairs behind her ear. 

"Yeah. It's so weird though."

You chuckle.

"In what way?"

"Usually it's you who sits in my lap. But this is good. Just weird."

"I think the word you're looking for is unfamiliar."

"Are you a thesaurus?" 

You laugh and kiss her forehead. Abby nuzzles her nose into your neck and your breath hitches. 

You know Abby doesn't mean to get you horny with her breathing, but you are getting horny. 

"Come here." You tell her and Abby lifts her head just enough for you to kiss her. She is warm and welcoming, doesn't rush anywhere and you are not rushing either, just enjoying the kiss. Abby relaxes into you and it surprises both of you - she isn't a person who gives up control easily. Hell, the whole thing started because Abby couldn't deal with people not doing everything like she told them to. But you feel how she puts more weight on you and you buck your hips into her. 

"Okay yeah. Still weird, but good." Abby pants into your mouth. You dig your fingers into her ass and press her into your crotch. "Oh fuck."

"Wanna make you cum." You say, panting yourself as arousal takes the hold of you. "What do you think?"

Abby looks at you with a lifted brow. 

"You think I'm going to say no?"

"Well." You kiss her jaw. "I don't plan on letting you do anything at all, so, maybe take a moment to think about it."

Abby stares at you as your words settle in. She will what, just lie there and do nothing? It sounds wrong, it sounds like she is going to be out of control, but also…

Also it sounds like the sweetest sin she could commit. 

"If you're not sure, we can stop. Like, fully. Or at any point you want to." You stroke her cheeks with your thumbs as you watch Abby. You know she is apprehensive about this idea, but you want her to relax fully and forget about everything. And you know you can give it to her if she just says yes. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that." Abby smiles bashfully and you kiss her, so fucking grateful for how brave she is. 

It's one thing to stare death in her face and win, and the other thing to stare in your lover's face and decide to trust them completely. And any other day Abby would have chosen death, but with you the danger can't get safer than this. 

So Abby lets herself relax into you again and just enjoy your touch. 

"Thanks." 

Abby chuckles, but it turns into a gasp as you move your lips down her neck while your hands are tugging on her shirt. Abby helps you take the shirt and the bra off, and you just caress her sides, looking over her. 

Abby knows you like how she looks, but having your attention like this makes her nervous. Your eyes are so dark with hunger Abby wants to look away but she doesn't, as sudden greed for your love washes over her. You look at her like you want to devour her. 

"Pretty." You sigh as you smile. "You're so pretty, Abs."

"I don't think pretty is the right word."

"Beautiful?"

Abby huffs but can't help her smile.

"Gorgeous?"

"Stop it." Abby says, playfully stern. "You're so sappy, god."

You grin and kiss her again, shutting her up - if you say she is pretty, she is, and whatever Abby thinks of herself is totally irrelevant. Your lips make a trail from her neck to her shoulder and you gently kiss her freckles, listening to Abby's breathing closely: it gets heavier as you move your kisses down, and these small sighs are the greatest encouragement you can get. 

You slowly move one of your hands up and cup Abby's tit, kneading her doughy flesh as she gasps. 

"Feels nice?"

"Yeah." Abby murmurs and runs her hand over your hair. It's still hard to let go so she tries to occupy herself in some way. She gently massages your neck and you kiss her just above her nipple. "Yeah, this is nice."

"Good. Let's take your pants off, I need them out of the way."

Your intonation makes Abby throb in her pants - it sounds so commanding and for once in her life she doesn't want to fight it, no, she wants to obey - it's easy with you. Safe. 

Abby stands from your lap and you help her take her pants and underwear off, making a small pile on the floor. Abby reaches to tug your shirt off, but you gently push her hands away. 

"Relax, baby. Don't worry about anything, okay?" You tug her back into your lap and sigh so happily when you touch her bare skin. "Your job right now is just to be pretty. Can you do that?"

Abby is conflicted: you don't sound patronising, but it should sound patronising, shouldn't it? She stops for a second to understand her reaction and you just watch her. You know Abby needs some time to process what is happening, so you continue caressing her back and her pretty ass that makes you drool while Abby figures out how she feels about your new behaviour. 

"Well I can try." Abby shrugs and you smile. 

"Thanks. I wanna call you princess, you know?" You kiss her neck and leave a hickey on her collarbone. 

"Call me what?" Abby laughs in the middle of her gasp at how ridiculous it sounds, but it's not a bad laugh. It's just embarrassing. "I'm no princess, (y/n)."

"Would you actually mind if I called you that?" You kiss her breastbone and Abby watches you. 

"Don't think so." Abby pants and looks at you impatiently as you finally move your lips to her tits. 

"Princess." You murmur and look into her eyes while her cheeks become bright red. "My pretty princess." You suck on her nipple gently and Abby gasps, squeezing your shoulders. The pet name turns her on - a lot of things turn her on right now even though they're weird and embarrassing.

You play with her other nipple and Abby presses closer to you, so you let your restraints go and use all your strength to move her closer to the point where her back is arched. Abby sighs, surprised - obviously Abby knows you are strong (not as strong as her, but strong nonetheless), but she never actually experienced it. Maybe you can make her feel small. Maybe you can make her feel like no one else could before. 

You slowly move your hands up Abby’s muscular thighs, caressing every line with your fingertips - Abby is too hot for her own good, and the hungry monster that lives inside you claws at your chest, desperate to have its way with Abby and make her forget her fucking name, but you’re patient. You would never push Abby into something she isn’t ready for, especially in sex, but you want to show her an alternative. Show that she can let herself forget her fucking name and it will be safe. Because god knows Abby needs it.

Abby watches your hands in anticipation and you smirk at her when you place your hands on conjunctions of her hips, caressing her hip bones with your thumbs. Abby is soft here, but her V-line makes her look sharp and hard, and it gets to your head. 

“I fucking love how strong you are, you have no idea.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Abby chuckles, but she is impatient, so she grabs your hand and moves it down to her pussy. 

“Hey, don’t spoil the fun.” You scold her playfully and bring your hand back. “I’m not going to keep you waiting, princess. Relax.”

Abby feels how her face burns when you call her princess again, but it gets her wet, so impossibly wet there's probably a dark spot on your pants under her. Abby grinds her hips down, searching for some friction, and you push your hips up to let her have it. Abby shudders as her clit grinds down on your pelvis and her hands clutch your shoulders almost painfully as she tries to set a pace of her hips. 

"This is so hot, Abs. Fuck." You tell her as you watch her get off just grinding on you. You grab her ass and help her grind harder and Abby whimpers quietly, and your brain barely holds back your filthy mouth. You want to tell Abby how good she is, how she is doing such a good job getting herself off, but you hold it back for now. 

The friction is not enough and you know it, so you lock her in place with one arm around her waist, praying she'd listen to you, and snake your other hand between your bodies. 

Abby is so fucking wet your eyes roll back into your scull from how hard it turns you on. 

"You're so wet, princess." You murmur into her ear and Abby whimpers again. "You okay?"

Abby just nods and it clicks. Abby is getting overwhelmed, but she clings to you so you figure out it's a good overwhelmed. 

"Do you like it when I call you princess?" You ask mostly to make sure, but it sounds so seductive to Abby, a little mean maybe but in a good way. 

"It's embarrassing." Abby admits and squirms around when you cup her pussy. Finally. 

"Do you want me to stop?" You ask gently and look in her eyes, serious. Abby looks back, but her eyes are glazed over, she is too horny to care about being embarrassed by this point. 

"No. Don't stop." Abby grinds against your hand and you press her closer to make her stop. 

"You wanna cum already?"

"You keep fucking teasing me." Abby says, annoyed.

"I'm taking my time." You kiss her cheek and part her folds carefully, circling her clit with two fingers and Abby buries her head into your neck, moaning. You stroke her back to soothe her, but your fingers only get faster, the pressure is featherlight and it drives Abby crazy because it will get her to cum way too fast, and you know it. 

"Yeah, that's right, princess. Relax and enjoy, yeah?" You can't stop talking now, desperate to praise Abby and make her feel safe in your arms. "Does it feel good?"

"I- I can't fucking-" Abby moans between her words, clinging to you harder as your fingers get her closer to her release. "Icantfuckingthink" Abby says in one breath and you barely make sense of it.

"Oh princess, don't. Don't think, okay? Be good for me." You pay closer attention to her reaction, not sure if Abby would like it, but she is too out of it now. She whines - fucking hell Abby whines - and presses closer to you.

"Yeah, I'll take care of you, I'll make you feel good." You promise her and slide your fingers down, gently pressing at her hole. Abby arches into your fingers, trying to get them inside, and your heart melts. "You're so cute, fuck. You want my fingers?" 

Abby growls at you, refusing to talk, and you chuckle. 

"Just nod for me, okay? Or shake your head."

Abby takes a second to process your words and then she nods. 

"Good girl." 

That makes Abby open her eyes in shock and her walls clench around nothing to push her slick into your hand, and you can tell she liked it. 

"Can I call you that, princess?" You slowly push your fingers inside and just move them to feel how soft and hot Abby is. She suddenly grinds down on your hand and you kiss her shoulder. "Nod or shake." You remind her. 

Abby nods, her embarrassment totally forgotten by this point: she feels small, safe and taken care of, and the way you talk to her only makes it better. Your stupid spidey senses let you know when to check in with her and Abby never knew it could be this way - that giving consent can turn her on so much because you ask for it like you're dirty talking to her. 

And you are so close and you hold her so tightly Abby feels grounded even though she is so overwhelmed she can't think anymore. She just feels, her world only exists in the tactile plane now, and your voice carries her away. 

"Yeah, don't think, princess, I want your head empty and your pretty cunt stuffed with my fingers." You murmur into Abby's ear and she buries her face in your neck deeper as you curl your fingers inside her. Abby moans quietly and you feel how you lose any self-control you had before. 

You pick up the pace, catching the balance between overwhelmingly fast and not fast enough just so you won't disturb Abby's delicate headspace, and you just listen to her. Abby is not loud, never been, but that what makes it so magical - every sigh turns into a quiet whimper the longer you fuck her, and then you feel it, how Abby clenches around your fingers, her orgasm coming closer. 

"You're close, princess, I can fucking feel it. Do you feel it? Does it feel nice when you're so tight around me?"

"Yeah." Abby says in a hoarse low voice and your teeth fucking ache because you want to sink them into her so much. 

"Fuck Abby." You kiss her temple and suddenly you're fucking her so hard Abby gets tense in your arms, overwhelmed. "You have no idea what you do to me."

But Abby is not listening to you because you turn your hand just enough so you could thumb her clit and-

"Fuck!" Abby shrieks and closes her thighs on you as she cums. You stop moving your fingers inside her to enjoy how she pulsates around them, but you continue thumbing her clit."Fuck-fuck, stop-" Abby asks when it becomes too much and you obey her. 

Abby is panting hard and you just kiss her neck and shoulders, waiting for her to calm down, but you can't help yourself so you start slowly moving your fingers in and out. 

"You feel amazing around my fingers, princess."

"Fuck, don't stop, please, don't fucking stop-" Abby whispers and hugs you around your neck. You’re more than happy to oblige, and you can’t help your mean smile as you move your fingers slowly but thoroughly, getting a feel of every centimetre of Abby’s walls. 

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Abby to whimper and shudder in your arms again, drenching your hand up to your wrist, and you gently kiss her to help her calm down. Abby is limp on your lap, her head comfortably tucked in your neck as she pants. Abby feels exhausted but ridiculously happy, giddy even - you opened something in her, something that freed her vulnerability fully. God, Abby always knew she could trust you, let you watch her back, but the thought she could be so vulnerable and small with you never crossed her mind.

“Do you want to nap, baby?” You murmur in her hair and Abby hums in agreement. “Okay, let me put your shirt back on, yeah?”

Abby reluctantly lets you put the shirt on her and wrap a blanket around both of you as you adjust your position so you’d be lying down while Abby would be on top of you, so it would be comfortable for her to rest. You open your book again while Abby’s breathing evens out.

“I am watching a pale blue sky be torn across by wind fresh from the russian steppes. Why is it that I find it so difficult to accept the present moment, whole as an apple, without cutting and hacking at it to find a purpose, or setting it up on a shelf with other apples to measure its worth or trying to pickle it in brine to preserve it, and crying to find it turns all brown and is no longer simply the lovely apple I was given in the morning?”

The present moment, whole as an apple - Abby doesn’t have to worry about not accepting it, lulled by your voice and your warmth and your smell - after all, the present is all she has.

[gyratingpresley]

I expect you to make me a daddy.

Warnings: Smut smut smut...

This is just a little something to keep you going until I publish the next chapter for you're mine. If you do want to be tagged in my future stories let me know. Have a good read babies.

Elvis had been busy with his shows in Vegas, and the colonel had been working him like a dog, but he finally managed to convince the devil to let him come home to Graceland for a while. Ever since he came home, you two had spent every day together. He has always been the possessive type, never wanted you to leave the house without him, unless he knew where you were 24/7. Recently, Elvis had been waking up to an empty bed, so he adopted a new tactic that was falling asleep on your lap, trapping you in bed. It was annoying, but you enjoyed being close to him. You practically had to beg him to let you up for the bathroom.

A few days ago, you had agreed to go out for a drive with the rest of the mafia to shop for clothes. You had been nagging Elvis since he finally said you could on one condition, you come and stay in Vegas when he goes back. So here you were the morning of the day, you were lying in bed, stuck. Reading pride and prejudice with a smile on your face.

The rough pages of the book rustled as you turned them, the spine cracking every time you opened and closed it. You were so deep into the book, you hardly realized the heavy footsteps leading to your door. "Y/n! You comin' for a drive still? The boys are waiting. " Charlie. Elvis's right hand man, he was knocking on the door to the bedroom you and Elvis shared. You flited your eyes to the closed door and the man in your lap. "Yeah, comin' Charlie!" You called back, unfortunately disrupting the sleeping beauty, his hands curled around your waist as he shuffled around. He groaned. The sun streamed in through the long linen curtains, its warmth heating up your pink cheeks. "Elvis, come on, I gotta' get up." You ran the pads of your fingers through his hair, eliciting a moan from his lips. "Don't you move, little girl." Elvis growled, gripping the inside of your thigh, he pulled it to his mouth, you gasped as his teeth sunk into it. He then moved his mouth further up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the skin.

"Elvis, stop, I need to get up." You run your fingers down his bare back.

"They can wait." He places a kiss to the lacy fabric of your underwear.

"Daddy's hungry."

His long fingers tuck under the waist band of your panties, he pulled them down slightly, placing a kiss to your womb.

Elvis has always had a yearning to make you pregnant, have you carry his baby. He had enough, he didn't want to keep pumping his cock to the thought of you with a swollen belly and full breasts, he wanted to see it, the life growing inside of you. Elvis groaned at the thought.

"What?" You cupped his face, bringing it up to look at you.

He hummed, "Take these off." The sharp edge of his nail trailed along your panties. "Not now baby." You push his hand away, wrong move. Elvis' eyes darken, he sits up, throwing your book onto the floor as his other hand ripped the delicate fabric of your underwear. You squealed as he grasped your thighs, forcing them apart. The force he was using caused you to fall back onto the soft pillows. "Elvis!" You struggled against him as he blew on your wet cunt. The cold air tickled something inside of you. You pulled at the sheets, trying to pull his head back away from your naked bottom half. Elvis shot one arm up to hold your hands above your head, the other pressing down on your pelvis keeping you down. He looked up at you.

"Quiet." His voice was low, it ran shivers up your spine.

As soon as his mouth touched your clit every fuck you gave crumbled away, it was just you and him. You moaned into the pillow, biting into it. His tongue worked your clit, sucking it and releasing it with a pop. He groaned into your pussy, thrusting his tongue in, he imagines you are pregnant with his child, all swollen and round, your breasts waiting to taken care of. He licks a stripe down your folds, just to thrust his tongue back in. Elvis stopped, bringing his hands down to part your thighs further, he sits up pulling his white boxer shorts down, his erect cock springing out. "Elvis, baby, people will hear! The boys are downstairs." You whispered. "Then you better keep your mouth shut? Huh little girl?" He pressed his red tip to your entrance, slowly pushing in. "Ah!" You squeal adjusting to his size, your never get use to it, Elvis smiles slyly, he leans down capturing your lips with his, his tongue moves along yours as he begins to thrust in, you moan into his mouth. He pulls back, curing his hands around your waist as he pulled almost all the way out, just to fill you up to the hilt.

The sounds of skin clapping together filled the air, the room smelt of sex. The sounds leaving you were almost pornographic as he pounded into you. "Oh! God! Fuck yes!" You scream out, Elvis picks up your hand, kissing your palm. "You gonna carry my baby? Hm?" He growls into your palm, you nod vigorously, gasping as he groped your breasts. The guys downstairs stopped their conversations as soon as they heard your cries of pleasure. Charlie ran his hand down his face, chuckling "Looks like she ain't comin' down any time soon." The rest of Elvis's mafia laughed as they all walked out the door. Elvis twisted you around, his hands gripping your hips. "That's it baby, you can do it, come on." He kissed your back, thrusting into you relentlessly. You gripped the headboard groaning as Elvis pushed himself deeper, "Oh!" You gasped, his fingers had found their way to your swollen clit, rubbing circles. "Cum for me." He spanked your ass, plowing into you now. The moans that left your mouth fueled his pleasure, tightening the feeling his in stomach. "Fuck!" He yelled out. The coil building in your stomach tightened as he thrusted in twice more before spilling his seed into you. You chased your own release, replacing Elvis's fingers with yours.

Elvis pulled out, you whined at the loss.

He pat your ass, his laugh sending a chill up your body.

"I expect you to make me a daddy." He hummed as he shoved the leaking cum back inside you.

It's just a small one shot (or is it...) to keep you going. Let me know if you want to be tagged in my work!

Tagged:

@redwitchbitch1

<333

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Feeling you 2

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this was planned as one shot, but the story doesn't let go of me. So as promised Part 2 is ready and there will be Part 3 coming soon if nothing extraordinary happens. You know me already - if there is not a healthy portion of angst it's probably not my story 😉

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Word Count: 3,6 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Eanflaed's voice, both comforting and irritating, pierced through your consciousness, pulling you back to the dimly lit main room of the old alehouse. “You are dreaming again,” she said. Your friend busied herself at the counter, cluttered with empty ale mugs, and leaned forward on her elbows, waiting for you to wash and refill them.

“You need to put an end to this”, she insisted, striving to capture your attention, though she knew you were hardly in a state to listen. Persistent as always, Eanflaed never ceased trying. You knew she meant only good for you and she was right, and you loved her for that with all your heart. Eanflaed had always been the bastion of reason, a reliable friend in the gravest situations. Someone you deeply trusted.

“You realise he won't come back to you. We've all been through it. Falling in love with a client can’t have a happy ending,” she added, placing her hand on yours, compelling you to pause and meet her gaze.

“I know, and I’m not in love,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as a surge of warmth tinged your cheeks, “I just can't shake him from my mind. It's foolish, but I can't help it. Sometimes, I wish for them to return, and for him to simply overlook me, choosing another for the night. Then, at least, I'd be certain he's forgotten me. It would hurt, but I'd finally know it's over. I'd understand that there was never anything between us in the first place."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Eanflaed's voice softened. "When I asked you to hump him, I was just trying to help you get over it, to move forward. He seemed so sweet and somehow lost and I thought that maybe he could snap you out of this funk you've been in since that bastard... well, you know." Eanflaed's words halted abruptly under your stern gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured, releasing your hand.

You finished filling the mugs, ale frothing at the brim, and Eanflaed quickly picked them up, heading back to the few guests at the tables. You let your palms glide over the rugged and worn surface of the old, cracked wooden counter, feeling its grooves and notches, the sensation under your fingers strangely calming. Noticing an ale splash, you grabbed a rag to clean it up. Keeping busy always helped you stay grounded, stopped your mind from wandering too much. It was a quiet evening. 

It had been half a year since you last saw Sihtric, but for some reason, you couldn't get him out of your head. You just couldn't shake off the memories - that soothing feeling of his warm body pressed against yours, his strong arms wrapped around your naked frame, holding you tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go, that gentle touch of his lips on your neck, the tickling sensation of his breath against your skin. But above all his big, expressive eyes, the look in them tinged with inexplicable sorrow mixed with youthful eagerness and goodness were etched in your memory. 

He had asked your permission to stay with you, even though he knew he didn’t have to, as Uhtred had paid for the whole night. He had carefully tucked the blanket around both of you, his legs entwining with yours, enveloping you in his presence and leaving no space between your bodies. You could still almost feel his fingers tracing a gentle path from your shoulder down to your palm, interlacing with yours as he whispered a soft “Thank you,” in your ear, and his steady heartbeat coupled with his even breathing had lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in two years. 

Morning had arrived with loud knocks and Uhtred's brusque voice demanding the horses be readied. Startled, Sihtric leapt from the bed, his cheeks colouring as he scrambled to dress, muttering under his breath while struggling with the stubborn laces of his breeches.

You had watched him from the bed's warmth, a strange lump forming in your throat. With each passing moment you realised that this was the end. The end of what? Your mind was harshly insistent there hadn’t been anything. You had humped the young and handsome  warrior. It was nothing special. It was what whores do for money. And you had been in this trade far too long to know it better.

Closing your eyes, you sank back into the pillow,  the last thing you wanted was to watch Sihtric hurry out of the room. You were certain he wouldn't look back. Why would he? But just as you braced for the definitive sound of the door closing, you felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed. Your eyes fluttered open just as Sihtric's lips hesitantly brushed your forehead. 

A shy smile played on his lips. “I have to leave now,” he said, and you couldn't discern if his voice held a hint of regret or sadness, or if it was just your imagination. “Can I… will I see you again, if we… when we return?” Sihtric's voice wavered slightly with his last words. Was it due to the uncertainty of his future, or a genuine desire to see you again? You tried to speak, but no words came out, choked by the lump in your throat. Instead, you just nodded and exhaled sharply as Sihtric's lips met yours in a brief, tender kiss.

You had so much you wanted to say – to wish him luck, to say how much you enjoyed the night with him, to tell him you'd be waiting. Thoughts swirled in your mind, but your voice failed you as you watched him walk towards the door, turning for one last, lingering glance before leaving.

And since then, you waited, though you weren't sure for what. What could you expect if he did return? “Nothing,” your mind whispered, while your heart screamed, “Everything!” Deep down, you knew it was a lost cause. He had probably forgotten you the moment he left town, or at least by the next alehouse with its array of young, charming girls. Yet, each time the doors of the old alehouse creaked open and men entered, your eyes involuntarily searched among them, your heart racing with hope.

"Sigefried's here again, asking for you to join him at their table. What should I tell him?" Eanflaed queried with a teasing grin, returning with a batch of empty mugs.

"Just say I can't," you replied tersely, bracing yourself against the counter with your hands and shooting a challenging look at your friend.

"He's a decent man, and he's taken a liking to you. His wife passed away last year," Eanflaed pressed on, oblivious to your brooding expression.

"That's precisely it. Barely a year since her death and he's already on the hunt for someone new," you retorted sharply, your voice laced with disdain.

"Hey, go easy on him. He's only human, not a saint. And in his defence, he's only had eyes for you. Never once has he chosen another girl here. I think his visits are just to see you," Eanflaed whispered, trying to persuade you. "I'm not suggesting you to hump him. Just be courteous and say hello."

"I'm really not feeling up to it today," you replied, turning away and glancing towards the back chamber behind the counter. "Ealfwin, could you take over? I need a break," you called to the young girl in the doorway, who was surveying the room. She nodded in acknowledgment. You left your apron on the counter, which Ealfwin picked up as you made your way to the door.

You shivered, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin as the cool evening air brushed against you, a stark contrast to the house's cosy warmth. Rubbing your upper arms to ward off the chill, you hesitated before stepping outside. Heading towards the stables just around the corner, you found comfort in the familiar scent of fresh straw and the soft sounds of horses snorting. Leaning against one of the stable poles, you took a deep breath, soaking in the tranquil hush of the approaching night.

The sound of the main door creaking open and footsteps drawing near reached your ears. Without turning, you knew who it was.

"Uh... erm... good evening. Sorry, I hope I'm not intruding," a deep, resonant voice broke the silence as you slowly turned to face the man now beside you, his figure casting a shadow in the light spilling from the alehouse. "I was wondering... about my offer... have you thought about it?" he asked, stepping closer.

You remained silent.

"I realise it might seem rushed, but as I've mentioned, I find you very appealing, and I'm in need of a wife to manage the household and care for the children. My estate isn't large, but it's sufficient for all my needs and more. With me, you wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again," Sigefried spoke with a measured, casual tone, but his words sent a shiver down your spine.

He had calmly and logically presented his proposal a week ago, urging you to consider it. And you had given it thought. The offer was undeniably tempting – a roof over your head, freedom from the worry about which meal you have to leave out today, or about your clothing slowly turning to tatters with no money to replace them. 

It wasn't about love or affection; it was a deal, pragmatic and sensible. It was a polite way of asking you to sell yourself, and the price he offered was more than fair for someone in your position. It was an escape to a different life, one you had often dreamt of – a life filled with esteem and reasonable wealth, a life where you would be attending church on Sundays instead of scrubbing mugs in an alehouse. Yet, in this new life, under the guise of a wife's respectability, you would still be selling your body, just as before. You would still be a whore, only with a different title, and that until your dying day.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you leaned your head against the pole, closing them. A gentle breeze played through your loose hair, and you felt your fingers tremble as you adjusted your dress, bracing yourself to the cruel truth that there was no other life for you, you were trapped in your own dreams and the cold misery of this world and there was no escape for you. 

"I... I've thought about it," you stammered, your breath quickening with each word. Sigefried reached out, taking your hand in his and gently lifting it to his lips. The confidence in his gaze made you swallow hard. He understood the appeal of his offer, assured in its allure. There was no malice in his eyes, only lust mingled with cold calculation – and that was the final push in your decision, one that had been resolute from the start. You knew this was a choice you might regret.

You parted your lips to speak, but before a word could escape, Sigefried's lips pressed forcefully against yours, eliciting a surprised gasp. You remained immobile, spellbound, as Sigefried's greedy lips moved over yours. Shock rendered you unable to respond, while a growing sense of disgust churned in your stomach, absorbing all your other senses so that you even failed to notice the figure of a young man, halted in his steps, clutching a bunch of flowers, his gaze fixed intently on you and Sigefried.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric stood motionless, unable to avert his gaze from you and the man who had just proposed to you, now kissing you with such intensity. Time seemed to slow down as he observed you both, completely absorbed in each other, oblivious to the world around. With a concerted effort, he finally managed to look away. His eyes fell to the flowers he clutched, and a wave of heat rushed to his cheeks, flooding him with embarrassment.  Flowers. He couldn't help but think how silly it was to come here with flowers.

His hand opened, letting them slip through his fingers and tumble to the ground, while his eyes followed their swirl in the air before landing in the dirt. An urgent need to escape washed over him, to flee before the overwhelming heaviness in his chest became too much to bear. Stepping over the now-crushed blossoms, Sihtric silently turned and continued his way, each step feeling heavier than the last. Reaching the door, he paused, inhaling deeply to steady his rapid heartbeat, then pushed it open, alehouse's raucous laughter and loud voices hitting him as he entered.

Uhtred and Finan, sitting at a table at the room's far end, were easily spotted, their laughter ringing out.

"Look who's here! Our lovesick warrior," Finan greeted with a teasing smirk as Sihtric approached. "Tell us, Sihtric, did you finally confess your undying love to the alehouse beauty?"

Uhtred placed a cautious hand on Finan’s shoulder, his eyes noting the miserable, lost expression on Sihtric’s face, his cheeks flushing and fists clenching, as he slumped onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

"I need a drink," came Sihtric's hoarse voice. He reached for the ale mug Uhtred slid towards him. "And... and I need a woman," he added, setting the now-empty mug back on the table with a thud after a couple of hearty gulps. 

Finan's face shifted from amusement to concern as he shared a worried glance with Uhtred.

"What's up? Did you see her?" Finan asked, his tone now serious.

Sihtric tried to speak, but words escaped him as the image of you and Sigefried locked in that intense kiss replayed in his mind again and again, each time like a fresh wound to his heart. He was not angry at you; he was angry at himself for being unable to forget you, to move on from you. 

He had made every effort. He had tried to erase the memory of your deep, sorrowful, yet captivating eyes, and had sought to quell his yearning for your soft, tender touch in the embrace of other women. But nothing had worked. Something about you had ensnared him from the very first moment your eyes met. There had been something so familiar yet intangible in the way you spoke to him, the way you touched him, that lingered in his memory, impossible to shake off and forget. 

He had felt safe with you and he had felt loved. Yes, loved – he had felt a genuine care and acceptance of who he was, emanating from you, a feeling he thought long forgotten and buried together with the only person who he knew had truly cared for and loved him.

He understood that he had no right to expect anything from you, but deep down, he had hoped that unique bond he had sensed – that understanding and shared feeling of each other’s unspoken pain and sorrow  – wasn't just a delusion conjured by his imagination. He longed for it to be real, mutual. This feeling had ignited a relentless flame within him, driving him forward, guiding him in the battle, consuming his thoughts and breathing new life in him. He had never experienced that feeling again, regardless of how young, beautiful, or eager to please the other girls were. This flame had driven him to return to you, it had carried him, made him fight like a madman, spurned him and given him wings to fly. 

Yet he had arrived too late. And even if he hadn't, what could he possibly offer you? How could he rival the proposal he had just overheard? You deserved the security and prosperity that the other man was offering, and he would rather cut his own hand than attempt to deprive you of it, even if it meant leaving his heart bleeding. 

"I'm such a fool," Sihtric finally managed to utter, his hand tightening around the ale mug.

"Hey, that's how it goes sometimes, lad. We tried to warn you, but you wouldn't hear it. She's an alehouse girl, Sihtric. You couldn't have seriously expected her to wait for you for half a year," Uhtred said, placing a comforting hand on his younger friend’s shoulder. 

"Thank goodness there's no shortage of beautiful women around," Finan chuckled, his smile broadening as he watched a group of giggling girls emerge from the back room, making their way to the guests. 

It was that time again and the room was full of freshly arrived warriors, signalling a potentially profitable night. 

—------------------------------------------

Your heart pounded like thunderous drum beats in your ears as you flung open the doors, bursting into the alehouse's now noisy main room.You had been away for no more than half an hour and within this short time the quiet and drowsy alehouse had morphed into a bustling hive, filled with energy and noise. 

Your hands trembled, the vivid memory of the recent moments still fresh in your mind. You had slapped Sigefried with all your might, pushed him away in revulsion, and fled. The image of his stunned, confused expression lingered in your mind – his hands reaching out to you, his voice calling your name, offering apologies. But you didn't look back; you just ran, driven by an overwhelming need to return to the safety of the alehouse, to escape his grasp, to avoid his presence. 

Your gaze swept quickly over the buzzing main room as you made your way to the counter, trying to dodge Eanflaed's sharp glare.

"What took you so long? Where have you been? We're swamped with guests. Uhtred and his men are back, can't you see? I need you here," Eanflaed's words washed over you forcefully. Your heart seemed to leap into your throat as you spun around, scanning the crowded room. Then, you saw him.

There he was, seated at the far end, his laughter cutting through the din and loud chatter, his arm comfortably draped around the waist of a girl you instantly recognised  as Ealfwin, nestled in his lap and whispering something in his ear. Your hands clutched the counter, a desperate anchor as your knees weakened.

Try as you might, you couldn't tear your eyes away. They were fixed on that familiar, handsome face, those broad shoulders, and muscular arms highlighted by his sleeveless armour, pulled in by the sound of his infectious laughter echoing through the room. 

He had changed. That insecure, shy, hunched over and sad-eyed boy, who once tried to stay hidden and mask his true strength, was gone. In his place sat a formidable warrior, exuding confidence and self-assurance, adorned with golden rings on his fingers and armbands around his wrists. 

A soft gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the sight of him, completely unaware of your presence, entirely focused on the girl in his embrace. He cupped her chin with his fingers and drew her into a fervent kiss. Ealfwin giggled, playfully withdrawing from his lips, her fingers tantalisingly trailing down his arm, while her other hand playfully tousled his hair. Sihtric chuckled again, pushed his ale mug aside, and stood up, effortlessly lifting Ealfwin onto his shoulder, making her laugh and wiggle with her feet, as he made his way towards the stairs that led to the upper chambers.

In that brief moment, as he passed by, your eyes locked with his. You felt rooted to the spot, mesmerised by those deep eyes casually glancing at you, flickering with a playful spark, yet showing no sign of recognition.

“Where’s the ale?” a gruff voice from a nearby table cut through the air, as Eanflaed nudged you sharply with her elbow.

“Snap out of it,” she whispered urgently, “Now you know…,” she trailed off, but you were no longer listening. Gasping, you spun around and hurried towards the door. You barely managed to stumble down the few steps as you felt your guts revolting and overcome by the nausea you bent over to vomit the scant contents of your stomach. Time blurred as you stood there, cold sweat beading on your forehead, your body convulsively heaving.

Feeling hands gently gathering your dishevelled hair and steadying your trembling shoulders, you realised it was Eanflaed, preventing you from collapsing to the ground.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Eanflaed's soft, familiar voice grounded you. You grasped her arms, looking up into her eyes filled with compassion, your own tearful gaze brimming with gratitude as you realised your friend had simply left her bustling alehouse and its demanding guests to be by your side. Eanflaed wrapped her arms around your shoulders, holding you firmly with a strength one would never suspect from her delicate frame, as she gently guided you to sit down on the steps, settling next to you.

“You deserve so much better,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness as she tenderly tucked your dishevelled hair behind your ear. “You're too sweet and kind for this harsh world.”

"Sigefried proposed to me tonight," you managed between sobs, "And I rejected him. I slapped him when he tried to kiss me. I just couldn't stand his touch, or the thought of anyone else touching me.”

“Oh, heavens. It just keeps getting more complicated,” Eanflaed sighed. “You need to rest and get through this night. Things always seem clearer in the morning. Come, I'll get a bed ready for you. And no, you're not going home alone in this state,” she stated firmly, cutting off any weak protest you might have had. In truth, you didn’t have the strength to argue. Nodding in agreement, you allowed Eanflaed to help you to your feet and guide you gently back inside.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[egrets-not-regrets]

Perfume: "Infatuation" for Big Cats (2)

Lenora assists a colleague in big cat research with some interesting results. When the new Emperor’s Children “Infatuation” brand of perfume was said to be even better at attracting big cats than the human “Obsession” perfume, Lenora was expecting to attract actual big cats like cougars, not her own Astartes. 

Author's Note: Part One. This is part two.

Warning: SMUT. OVERSTIMULATION. CUNNILINGUS. Also, Erriox feasting on Lenora like a big cat on his prey. Yeah, he’s a service top. 

Dialogue in the Gothic language is italicized and bolded.

Lenora’s nickname for Erriox is “Mountain Lion”.  

@kit-williams inspired this pheromone perfume smutfic. It’s been a wip for a long time.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams

In the back of his mind, Erriox knew he should get rid of the perfume to lessen some of that pervasive scent that was affecting them both. He’ll need to let his brothers know about this perfume and it’s… heavily distracting effects. He filed the reminder away in his mind, turning towards more immediate issues… such as the sight of Lenora unknowingly presenting herself to him, ass up, face down, as she was stretching. Erriox wasn’t done with her yet, not by far; not until Lenora had fallen to him completely and utterly, like the ruins of the enemy fortress after a siege. 

“Why is it not going away?” Lenora groaned, still bothered by the pressing need to fill the aching emptiness between her legs. 

She felt the hard metal ports on Erriox’s chest as he pushed her down onto her front on the mattress. 

“Erriox?” A whining gasp. She grabbed his arm when he reached under and pressed against her lower lips, stroking and teasing, trying to coax more slick from her already messy cunt. Lenora shuddered, tightly closing her legs together, trapping hIs hand.

“Mmmnnerriox… sto-a-ah…” Lenora bit her lip, one hand trying to grab his hand and stop him. Despite that, his fingers continued their teasing, dipping in and out of her core. His other hand pinched and pulled her sensitive nipples. Lenora shook her head, whining, desperately trying not to fall into the temptation of pleasure to piece together a thought she had. 

“Relax Lenora. Let yourself feel it.” He purred as he started to rut against her, making sure she felt his thick length against her back. 

“Erriox… the perfume… it’s driving me crazy.” She whined as she could feel his love bites and kisses along the back of her neck. The effects of the perfume were still strong and Lenora could still smell it. 

But the perfume wasn’t in this room… 

Her train of thought was sharply cut off when Erriox flipped her over and pinned her back to the bed. Purring, he bit her hardened nipple, soothing and swirling around it with his tongue, then biting harder and pulling on it. Lenora growled at him to stop but it came across as a wet needy mewl instead. 

He chuckled then switched to suckle from her other nipple. Lenora whimpered as her cunt pulsed with need. she clenched her thighs together, feeling the build up of slick between her legs. 

“Open your legs Lenora, I could smell your arousal. You’re not fooling anyone here.” He growled deeply as he gave her nipple one last hard suck before nipping and kissing his way down to her pussy. He growled as he easily pushed apart her thighs and delved his tongue inside her slit again. Himself rutting against the edge of her bed. 

“Erriox…” she tugged his hair insistently to get him to stop, “Please stop. Just wait a moment! I need…!” pleading. 

“What do you need, Lenora?” He glanced at her briefly, not stopping his feast, smirking when Lenora’s hips bucked against his face. 

“Aaugh… My clothes. They’re covered…mmm… in perfume. In the laundry basket… ah… I need to throw them into the washer?” her breath shortened with each suck, each lick, “Hah… At least get rid of the scent from here…mnngh…” tears squeezed out from the corners of her eyes, she couldn’t stop rutting against his face. Her hands clawed into his hair, “Please… pleasepleaseplease… mnn… sto-haaah… Nnnnghh!!!.” Lenora cried out as she came, back arching, thighs squeezing tightly around her Astartes’ head, him not stopping his relentless devouring, as if trying to suck her cunt dry. Erriox grunted as he spilled his seed onto her bedsheet. After catching her breath, she weakly tried to push herself away to get off the bed, “I need…”

“Relax, Lenora. I’ll take care of it.” Erriox gave her a quick kiss, pushed her down onto the bed again, then stood up. He grabbed her clothes basket and went to dump its contents in the washing machine. Remembering the perfume bottle and her clothes still on the table, he went over and double bagged the perfume bottle and put it in a sealed container then gathered their clothing. He sniffed the bundle of clothes deeply, his cock hardening again as his brain registered the heavy scents of both their sweat and arousal heightened by the pheromones of the perfume. Erriox purred. He was about to bring them to wash when he decided to pull out Lenora’s torn shirt and her cum-covered panties and tossed them into his room before throwing the rest of the clothes in the washing machine. She won’t miss them anyways...

The Iron Warrior smirked when he returned to his beloved’s room. His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, tasting the heavy scent of his beloved’s arousal in the air. He could hear her quiet whimpers as she moved up and down, grinding on the bunched blankets with a hand between her legs. He could see the goosebumps rising over her skin. 

“Lenora…” Erriox's deep voice drawled as he watched her from the doorway. 

Lenora stopped, face flushed, noticing his hungry stare. Erriox’s pupils were blown out as if the perfume hadn’t dissipated from his system at all. His erect cock hanging stiff with anticipation. 

“Erriox… I…” She froze as he stalked closer, licking her lips nervously. 

Sitting down on her bed with his back against the pillows, Erriox pulled her into his lap, “You haven’t had enough?” he chuckled as he pulled Lenora into his lap, her back against his chest. 

She gasped as his hands slid over body to tease her open and massage her breast, “Erriox…” she let out a breathy sigh and reached back to stroke his hardened dick, “Same goes for you.” grinning when she heard a soft growl.

“Tease.” Erriox nipped her ear and bucked against her, making Lenora lose focus and let go as his finger suddenly dug deeper into her core. 

Swallowing the building drool, Lenora’s fluttered closed, panting softly as she focused on the building pleasure between her thighs as she rocked against her Astartes’ fingers. She keened when a second finger sunk in to join the first inside her. 

“You’re so desperate, holding my hand for you to rut on like a whore in heat. Do my fingers feel that good, Lenora?” Erriox chuckled into her ear. 

Her lower half clenched at his words, her body flushed with embarrassment, “Shut up!” She hissed. 

“You… nnmmgh!!” Whatever further reply she had was cut short when Erriox curled his fingers in her, pressing into that spongy spot that short-circuited her brain. Her pussy gushed as she came on his hand. He purred as he thrust his fingers several repeatedly, feeling her wet channel tighten around them and more moisture leak down his hand. 

“Please. Erriox.” Lenora begged, delirious as the heat in her belly started building again, “Please. I need you inside me.”

He decided to be a little cruel and continued to finger her cunt, keeping his heavy hand pressed hard onto her swollen clit, making her whine each time her clit rubbed against his calloused palm as she rocked against him, “I am inside you.” He purred as he nipped her ear. 

Lenora leaned back against him, her hands gripping his… her hips still rutting against his right hand… body bowed to press more of her soft breast tissue into his left, determined to chase that delicious friction, “Stop teasing me…” she mewled. 

His voice was rough and sultry, “Tell me what you want. In Gothic.” Even though it was obvious from the way her juices covered his hand and leaked down the inside of her thighs. 

“I want…” her voice hitched, feeling his cock head tease open her slit, gathering her fluids. Up and down. In and out.

“I want…” her mind blanking as his hand squeezed her breast. Lenora realized she didn’t know the word for “fuck” in Gothic. She let out a breathy moan, feeling him slide his thick length against her bottom lips repeatedly, spreading more of their mixed fluids along it. 

“I want you to fuck me. Repeat it.” Erriox growled, the vibration sending shivers down her spine. Losing his patience, he pushed Lenora onto her hands and knees and shoved his cock into her, his cockhead forcing its way past her hole and into her slick channel again. 

Erriox groaned, “Lenora…fuck. Lenora…you’re still so tight.” almost losing focus. She was so hot and wet, so ready and breedable, and her cunt constricted his cock in just the right way. He didn’t know if his hand could ever replicate the same feeling. 

Lenora moaned as he started moving, “Mmmm… I want… oh… you… ah… to fuck… ahngh… fuck me... hah… Please.” Each gasp punctuated by a push of his hips as he thrust his dick deeper and deeper into her cunt. 

Her sinfully lustful moans and pleas almost made him lose control. It was incredibly tempting to dick her down with wild abandon, but he wanted to savour her, to claim her fully in body and mind. Erriox set a steady pace, fucking her with powerful strokes. He could hear Lenora whine and mewl like a cat in heat beneath him, her hips moving back to meet his thrusts, desperate to quell the burning desire rising in her. 

“Erriox… More... Hah… Need you. Please… Erriox!” The squelching sounds her wet sex made with each thrust only urged him to fuck her harder. 

He could feel her cunt tighten even more around his cock. She teetered on the edge of cumming, he could feel it. Chuckling quietly, he slowed down. 

Lenora tried to push her hips back into him, but turned her head to him, looking confused and hurt when he trapped her moving hips in his arm. 

“Why….?” She whined. Her sex pulsed around the length of his dick as he sawed in and out of her at a torturously slow pace. 

“Again. I want to hear you say it again. Tell me what you want me to do.” Erriox rumbled next to  her ear. 

She looked at him with a dazed and heated expression, pleading nonsensically, trying to push and wiggle in his grip; looking rather pathetic with how much she craved her orgasm, “Nnghnoo… I… I want you… hah… I…want…please… aaah… Eek!” 

Lenora squealed as Erriox smacked her ass, the impact heavy enough to leave a red mark. 

“Focus!” He sneered, “Or is your mind too fucked dumb to understand what I am saying?” 

She let out a strangled moan when he slapped her ass again. 

“Or is getting slapped around like a whore is what you want…” he commented dryly. He had felt the way Lenora’s cunt strangled his cock when he spanked her, felt the way her juices leaked from her slit shortly after. Erriox caressed her ass, slipping his hand between her legs and pulled it out, coated in her arousal. His eyes pinned onto her form, watching Lenora moaning at her own taste as she sucked on his fingers that he stuffed her mouth.

She had no idea what her Iron Warrior just said. All she knew was that she needed him to dick her down again. Punish her if he had to. “Please fuck me.” She begged when he removed his fingers. 

“In Gothic, Lenora. I want you to fuck me.” He growled. 

“Erriox… please… please… I want you to fuck MEEE!!!” 

‘“Good girl.” was all Lenora heard before the end of her sentence dissolved into a high pitched quail at the same time as Erriox slammed his hips against her ass, spearing his cock deep inside and started to fuck her again, rough and deep. Lenora came  hard, back arching, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. 

The Iron Warrior grunted at the feeling of her warmth fluttering around his cock, “You feel so fucking good around me, Lenora, like you were made for me.”

“Erriox… nngh! Erri… Erriox… hah… please more… aahn…” Lenora moaned his name repeatedly in a blissed, fucked out state, beyond listening or trying to understand what her Astartes just said. Her face planted into the bed as her arms lost all strength to brace her body against his thrusting. She could feel his girthy cock carving its shape into her.

Lenora babbled, words in English and Gothic tumbling out of her mouth, “Erriox… oh god…mmm… so good… yes… all mine… Erriox!”

“All for me. All mine. I will ruin you for any other man.” He growled possessively as his thrusting got  faster, more frantic, more rough. Lenora keened, her insides clenching at her Astartes’ dark possessive growl. 

“Tell me who you belong to!” He snarled

“Erriox! You! I’m yours! All yours…” she moaned loudly. 

He suddenly flipped them both over so that Lenora was sitting in his lap. Startled, Lenora planted her feet onto the mattress, pushing her hips up to keep her balance. Erriox snarled and pushed her down onto the base of his cock. Lenora squealed, her cunt fluttering around his dick as it tried to accommodate the sudden deep intrusion. Her trembling legs were spread wide over his legs. Erriox's large hands gripped the soft flesh of her cum-smeared thighs, grunting as he bucked into her from underneath. His breath stuttered, listening to her whimper as he could feel her cunt strangling his cock. His balls twitched, he was close to cumming as well. 

Erriox moved one hand over her pelvis and pressed against where his cock was carving into her vagina, “You feel that? You cunt, moulding and shaping around me?” he growled breathily into her ear, “You’re only ever mine, so be good for me and cum on my cock.” 

Acutely feeling the pressure of his thick cock pressed into her walls, Lenora let out a loud broken moan, drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth as another powerful buck of her Astartes’ hips and the rush of liquid heat into her womb ripped one final orgasm from her. She gripped tightly onto Erriox’s hand that was placed over her lower abdomen, her juices squirting all over his lap, further spoiling the bed sheets underneath, as her body shook from the rush of high running through her system. Lenora collapsed back against his chest, boneless and panting from exhaustion, her cunt still twitching around his dick, their mixed fluids slowly leaking out between them. She whined as Erriox slowly pulled out her, feeling the rest of their cum spilling out of her pussy. 

Erriox gently gathered her into his arms so that she was facing him, and licked her tears away, pressing his forehead against hers, “Are you alright?” he asked, a concerned look in his eyes. 

Lenora had an exhausted, but fond smile as she shakily reached up to caress his face, her smile growing bigger as he leaned into her touch. Her fingers tenderly traced over the scars decorating his face, reassuring him, “Tired, but I’m good. The effects of the perfume are gone… I think. I don’t feel the heat anymore. So thank you.” She reached up to kiss his lips. 

Erriox purred as he pushed into her kiss. “You are beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, brushing away her sweat-drenched hair plastered to her face. 

Lenora blinked at his sudden comment and blushed, then giggled shyly, “Thank you for the compliment. You are rather handsome yourself.” 

He chuckled as she kissed him again. 

They stayed cuddled together for a while when Lenora had something to ask him. 

“Mountain Lion…”

“Yes, Love?” 

She smiled at the term of endearment. Lenora relaxed into Erriox’s embrace, coveting the heat emanating from his body. 

“We should get rid of that perfume bottle.”

“Mmm… Maybe.”

She lightly smacked his chest, “Erriox!” 

[ilyasorokinn]

my lover ― carlos sainz

note, this is my first f1 piece, so what better way to join the f1 community on here than to write about my bestie bf mr. smooth operator. anyways, i'm mixing my two loves, taylor swift and f1 together for this. also, i made my first twitter edit and i had fun, so expect more coming soon. another note, i haven't been to the eras tour yet (seeing ms. swift in august :)), so this might be inaccurate. i don't want to watch videos because i see tons of tiktok and i want to least be a little surprised, so this is how i imagine it going :) summary, carlos and y/n go to a taylor swift concert where he has some tricks up his sleeve. warnings, mentions of sc**ter br*un (*barf emoji) word count, 643 words (a shorty but a goodie)

with races happening so frequently, you were worried you wouldn't be able to see taylor swift, but carlos made time. he cleared his schedule for 48 hours so you two could enjoy yourselves.

"carlos," you passed, your eyes widening as you took in the stage you had only seen in pictures.

carlos couldn't help but smile as he watched you take everything in. you had worked hard to get the tickets for the show and he was just happy to tag along and be your photographer and videographer for the night.

you were wearing a replica of one of her outfits while carlos wore a basic black shirt with a scooter on it but it was crossed out. when you first showed him, he was confused.

"why don't we like scooters?" he asked. you laughed and explained the story of scooter.

"carlos sainz?" you heard a couple of fans gasp as they noticed who was sitting next to them.

carlos smiled, giving them his full attention as she talked to him, then posed for pictures, "hey, can i ask you for a favor?" he stopped them before they went back to their conversation.

"of course!" the girls were freaking out. carlos sainz was talking to them!

"during lover," they knew automatically what his question was and they both melted, "i was planning on proposing to y/n." he whispered, glancing back at you, but you were already deep in conversation with the girls next to you and trading your friendship bracelets.

"do you think you could record it?"

"of course! oh, my gosh!" they gasped and carlos chuckled, "early congratulations."

"well, she hasn't said yes yet." he scratched the back of his neck.

"she will." the girl nodded.

carlos thanked them again before turning back to you. your arms were now covered in beaded friendship bracelets and he was confused about how it had happened.

"how did that happen?'

"well, i'm just very popular i guess." you shrugged, "look, this one's my favorite." you showed him your favorite one.

"beautiful, amor." he beamed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your head.

as the clock ticked down, you had gravitated from your seat up into a standing position. once the clock was at 0, you were screaming with everyone else.

lover was the first album of the songs she sang in the setlist, so the girls sitting next to you were ready to record the second lover started.

carlos could feel his heartbeat begin to pick up as the first notes of lover started. he felt around his pocket for the ring box and let out a breath when he found it.

"you okay?" you asked, glancing from him then back to the stage, afraid to miss anything.

"yeah." he nodded, swallowing hard for a second before looking you in the eyes, "i love you."

"i love you, too." you smiled.

"and i don't want to say much because this love explains everything i feel for you. i would love to do life with you and i hope you say "yes" to the question i'm about to ask." he pulled the ring out of pocket and the girls filming squealed, garnering the attention of everyone around you and they all whipped out this phones and squealed.

"will you marry me?" he asked, bending down and opening the box.

you covered your mouth in shock as your brain tried to catch up to what was going on in front of you, "carlos, oh, my god, yes! of course!" you bent down and cupped his face, kissing him.

everyone around your squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. he pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger, "you big romantic." you gasped, punching him jokingly in the shoulder.

"only for you." he kissed you again, hugging you as taylor continued to serenade you with music.

+ this :)

my taglist: @2manytabsopen @europeanpuck @bitchinbarzal @cinnamoncowboy @silverstonesainz @hotgirlhockey @barzysreputation

add yourself to my taglist!

[keelt9]

Chapter 3

Masterlist

After 5 minutes watching people come and go, I lost track of time. The steps I take forward are the half I walk back; the entrance was already further than the first time I stopped. I’ve told Liam I spent the weekend in the apartment, he needed to make a quick trip home to set a few things with the team, this is the kind of meetings he didn’t want to do in the distance.

“Come on dad! We are already late!” A small kid keeps pulling his father's hand as they run to the entrance. The noise inside confirms that everything is set for the opening ceremony. 

My hands tremble, as I hold the name tag, tapping the floor waiting for someone to answer the phone. “Y/N you better have a good reason.” I called a half-sleep Mia; she knows absolutely nothing about this, and I bet she will forgive me with the promise I tell her everything when I feel ready.

“Fuck! Are you really in Silverstone? Like right now?!” She is fully awake now, so she can easily distinguish the sounds she can hear in the background. “Wow, what are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” I hear her bluffs.

“Go, have fun. Go, watch the race when it finishes, go to a nice place, have lunch by the night you’ll be at the apartment, safe and sound.” Mia clearly thinks my problem is having fun, and she is right but not totally in this case.

“Y/N that shoulder won't get worse if you have fun, actually it could be helpful, you know relaxing the muscles, the br…” 

I laughed at her tendency of speaking without thinking first. “Mia you beat around the bush.”

“Yes, right, now go, and don't call me unless you are inside your apartment late at night, ok? Love you, bye.” 

So disrespectful to her older sister.

I take a deep breath and walk with the last persons arriving to the track, I show my name tag and one of the boys with a neon yellow jacket conducts me through hallways, rooms where a bunch of people are coming and go; someones with casual clothes another with clothes of each team; I startle for the screaming of people and the sound of the cars.

“Strident, right?” The boy smiles with fascination coming from his eyes. 

The last room we passed made me realize, it wasn't a simple pass like Max told me, I started to see the navy blue color, red and white all over the place.

“Here.” The boy gives me a quick tour around the room full of unknown people. “And here is where you can watch the race without problems, have fun!” Those were the last words he told me, until he apparently remembered something.

“Here.” He gives me the cap is been carrying all this time in his hand. “It should be illegal, you won't have anything on the team.” That makes me giggle, I take some air and start to calm.

The race passed without changes, Max won with 7 seconds ahead the second place; it's totally different to hear the commotion outside, the screams while you  see him jumping to his team, raising his hands in victory.

“Let's go, for the award ceremony.” A woman smiles at me and walks with me; as we get close to the track the noises become stronger. We reached a place where a lot of people were waiting at the other side of the fence, clearly people of the team and relevant people. Slowly the pilots enter to the higher platform where the ceremony will take place, Max enters at least, smiling big.

He looks out of this world with his race suit on, his blue eyes shining bright and that soft shade of pink in his face.

He listens carefully to his national anthem, celebrating getting wet in chapmange clearly loving every moment. After taking some photos he seemed to be looking for something on the ground but he was called one more time and conducted to the back of the stage.

Slowly people start dispersing all over the place. It’s time to leave, the phase two of Mia’s plan concluded, I start to thinking where I could go and have a nice lunch-dinner meal when I heard someone shouting my name

A blond girl clearly has a sight of what I look like, because when I slightly turn around her expression is a total relief.

“Oh thank god, you're still here.” The girl extends her hand and smiles at me. “Oh, I’m Violet, part of the team Red Bull. This way please.” 

Violet didn’t give me the chance to answer, just walked beside me explaining they looked for me before the race for I could be in the garage but they couldn’t find me. I told her what actually happened and smiled when she heard I actually watched all the post race ceremony. 

“Max will be relieved he almost went and looked for you by himself.” Violet dropped those words so casually that I almost let it pass. She guided me to different places until I reached the garage where cameramen, photographers and reporters came out, just people from each team there. 

“Have you seen Max?” Violet asks as we enter the garage. I felt out of place, maybe it was my anxiety running through my body but I feel the multiple eyes on me, doesn’t bring me good memories lately. “Thanks.”

Violet smiles at me apparently realizing my uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, no one of us bite.” I laughed, making me feel a little bit at ease. We start to walk one more time as she keeps me closer. “One more room and we’ll b…”

“THERE YOU ARE!” Max appears almost crashing with us, his suit stuck at the level of his waist, his hair tossed in different directions, dripping in what I bet is a mixture between Red Bull and champagne, still with a warm smile on his face. “Thanks Violet.” 

She nods and puts her hand over my arm. “A pleasure, nice to meet you Y/N, anything you need.” Leaving us in a less crowded room.

“You get a cap, nice.” Max lifts the visor a little bit. Probably he didn’t know but he makes me feel happier, more than I wish. “Still, wrong number.” 

I adjusted the cap one more time, still feeling shy. “What? 11 it’s a nice number.” He rolls his eyes.

“I can mend that.” He points with his head to the hallway behind him, as a sign that I should go after him; I choke my head, still he didn’t give me time to react because he grabs my left wrist and pulls me so I can follow him.

When Max left my wrist, we arrived at a more private room, no one inside, there were a couple of small couches, a small center table, on top a black bag. 

I grab my wrist feeling the comfy sensation he left. 

“Open it.” Max gives me the bag. First, the only thing I could see was a blue navy clothing, after pulling out I see, a T-shirt. However it wasn’t a Red Bull shirt, I actually recognized it when I lifted it in front of me.

“Is this?” My scoff didn’t leave me ending the sentence, smiling big at him. “You remember!” 

Two weeks ago we were talking about “uniforms” and the fact I don’t feel comfortable with the thousand of logos around and how lucky I feel when we used one, just three of them were all over our T- shirts, as the talked evolve I mention in a joking way I didn’t mind wearing one of his merchandising with the lion in the center, especially the blue one.

“That’s not all, see right sleeve.” I don’t know who is more excited, me or him. 

A target, with all right the colors, yellow, red, blue, black and white, a cute and small target. 

“NO WAY!” I scream and jump to hug him, a natural impulse from me but apparently leaving him frozen. “Sorry, sorry.” I split, grabbing the shirt tightly in my hands. “It’s amazing, thank you so much.” 

After I lift my face one more time, that shade of pink turns softly into a red one. 

A soft knock on the wall distracts us. “Max, last one, please.” A young woman appears and leaves as she comes with an apologetic smile. 

“Hey, give a couple of minutes and we leave all right?” Max starts to walk but stops when I open my mouth to ask what he means with “we.”

“What? Do you actually think I will invite you and then let you leave like that?” He giggles and shakes his head after my plain <Yes> “The brochures are for you to pick a restaurant, so we can go eat. I’m starving.” He rubs his belly a little bit.

“Max, wait…” I pursued him but already a couple of people were waiting for him.

“I’ll be with you, don’t worry.” Max just smirks softly and points at the shirt I’m squeezing tightly in my left hand. “You have a small me.” He refers to the Lion in the shirt.

The reference makes a slight smile on my face. After he left, I reached one of the couches; I lay down quickly, causing piddling pain in my shoulder, but my hand goes to my chest at the level of my heart.

<Boom, boom, boom> A crazy heart rate, surely not for the eccentric day. 

Leaving the paddock was easier than getting in; I waited for 25 minutes, then Max entered the room one more time fully changed, dry with casual clothes; as we walked to the exit he received the last instructions and I suspect he was barely listening because just nodded with a serious face. 

I chose “The Nook.” A cozy restaurant in a quiet street on the outskirts of the city, far away from the spotlights, hustle and prying eyes. We enjoy a calm dinner talking about our news in the weeks we haven't seen each other; he keeps bother me about how hard it is to get a message from me, the reason why he used rustic methods for inviting me. 

My wherefore is simple, I don’t want to bother him when he is probably on the other side of the world and it’s late at night.

“You never bother me, the opposite, you make me feel at ease.” A proud smile appears on my face as I take a bite of the brownie I order.

The buzzing in my purse interrupts us. <Liam> reads in the call ID. I apologize to him and stand for picking up, almost choking with my food.

“Hello, is everything all right?” Liam asked but his voice sounded uncertain, almost like he didn’t want to speak to me.

“That went wrong, huh?” I ask him, leaning my back against the wall. I hear him taking a deep breath and clearing his throat.

“It’s not bad, they are just as nervous as all of us.” I low my head.

After the competition where I came out with the injury, all the people who are responsible for me and the team I conformed talked to me. They met me when I was 9 years old and took me under his wings; but the first impressions after the injury didn’t promise good things. They sent me with Anton with the hopes I fully recovered, but their eyes told us a different thing.

“Liam…” I whisper, feeling a knot in my throat. 

“They will go in one month, want to see in person how you are, after that we will deliberate if you are still in or…” 

“Take me off another year.” I can perfectly picture the meeting, my team, the coaches and the tension that could surrender the office.

“We won’t let that happen, ok? We are advanced in your rehabilitation. Anton told us that, at this pace, big things will happen in one month.” This time Liam's voice is cheerful and optimistic. “Y/N we don’t surrender, we fight and we hit the ten, remember that.” 

I don’t realize a tear slips off my cheek; the truth is I’m afraid, I’m frightening actually.

“We’ll do it.” If I start to feel down I won't get anything so I clean my face and take a deep breath. 

“That’s the Y/N I know.” I can imagine his proud smile. “Are you all right?”

I turn around and see Max eating his fruit pie, and giggle. “I am, right now I am.”

“Great, I’ll be back tomorrow night and I’ll see you for the session on Tuesday, ok?” I laughed seeing Max stain his jacket with a grape that fell from his spoon.

“Say hi to my family, please.” Max turned around, looking side to side and caught me observing him with a wide open smile on my face, he hid his face between his hands, laughing.

“Oh count with that. Y/N, I don’t know what you are doing but whatever it’s lovely hear you like this.”

After I got back to the table we talked until the night started to fall over us. I'd better leave or Anton will kill me if I miss my session tomorrow.

“I’ll have to go.” I say to Max playing with the napkin between my fingers. “I had an incredible day Max, thank you.”

Max looks at me with those mischievous blue eyes. “Hm, what about if I drive you home?” He has gone crazy, even Milton Keynes, it's not that far, is still a long drive.

“No, I mean… You have to rest, it’s ok, I know how to get home.” Max stretches his arms.

“I have more than a day for that, I’ll promise, I will take my time to get you safe and sound.” 

[sm0lprism]

Bite-Sized (13) - A BG3 G/t Fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1 | Previous chapter| Series master list | Next chapter

Summary: Ria runs to the outskirts of the camp to take some time to herself to process the events of that day as the tiefling party commences.

Pairing: Astarion x f!borrower!oc (Tav/oc) (slow-burn)

Warnings: Vore mention, blood/gore mention, alcohol mention/Ria gets absolutely hammered, idk what else to put in the tags tbh

Word count: 5.4k

Taglist: @alexcutecolly @rose7420 @empressxmachina @taters169 @feral-sins @smolgloves @smolkuriboh27 (if you want to be removed or added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!)

The chill of the night air wrapped its cold arms around Ria’s trembling form as she sat huddled in the dirt. She had bolted towards the outskirts of the camp, away from the loud party that was being held in its centre, down by the flowing river that trailed alongside the camp grounds. This was the only place that wasn’t occupied by the masses of tieflings that had swarmed the camp.

Bringing her knees close to her chest, she allowed the tears to spill down her cheeks until her vision became a hazy blur. The events of the day flooded her brain like some vivid nightmare as she attempted to process everything that had happened. The truth about the disappearance of her kind had been answered for her and she struggled to comprehend it. Was this all her kind had been reduced to? Products to be bottled up and devoured without a second thought? Is that all she was worth?

Was I made to be devoured? Am I just a piece of meat? 

Sobs racked her body heavily, gasping for breath in between each of them, as she allowed all her anguish to flow freely. Her chest heaved with each exhale and she huddled closer to her legs in a feeble attempt to keep warm. The surrounding air was cold to the bone, and her frail clothes weren’t offering much to help retain any body heat. 

Astarion’s face flashed in her mind, and her sobbing slowed. She remembered seeing his face as he drove a dagger through Minthara’s chest before clamping his jaws around her neck moments before she passed out. Astarion had saved her life for a second time, however, this time it was intentionally unlike before with the goblins. Not to mention he had protected her and carried her back to camp inside his pocket when he easily could’ve just left her there.

Conflicting emotions battled intensely in her brain. She certainly hadn’t forgotten the whole ordeal of being inside his mouth, but at the same time she couldn’t push away the fact that he had purposefully saved her from Minthara.

“Vampires seem to be intoxicated as soon as they get a taste of it. They easily become addicted, as if it’s like a drug to them.”  

The drow’s words echoed clearly in her brain. It certainly explained why Astarion was so intent on eating her when they had first met. And he had a taste of her blood for quite some time now…was she even safe being around him anymore? Not like it was very safe to be around him beforehand anyway, but at the same time, he did seem to be acting nicer towards her as of late, and he had saved her life. Astarion himself wasn’t even aware of the intoxicating nature of her blood. And yet, he had cradled her with his tongue as if she had been made from porcelain, when he had most likely been battling his vampiric nature to eat her. Flashes of brilliant white teeth and the warm, soft sensation of the vampire’s tongue flickered in her brain. It had been an utterly terrifying ordeal, as it had resurfaced memories from when she had first met the pale elf, and at the time she hadn’t been sure if he was going to eat her or not. It would’ve been so easy for things to have gone horribly wrong. She shook her head lightly and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

Ria wasn’t sure what to think. So many things had happened all in the span of one day and her brain kept on darting from one thing to the next. Her gaze raked down towards her hands, still bewildered that she had somehow managed to summon a blast of magic. The sensation of the Weave had long since left her and she was now met with a hollow, sinking feeling of nothingness in her gut. Whatever had possessed her to cast the spell, it had long since gone. Perhaps when she was feeling better, she could discuss this matter with Gale. If anyone could teach her anything about harnessing the Weave, it would be the wizard. Borrowers controlling the Weave was something she had never even heard of. She wondered if her parents had known it was possible.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the soil beneath her feet thudded rather violently. Freezing in place, her heart pounding in her chest, she craned her neck upwards. She relaxed when she saw that it was only Shadowheart approaching her. The half-elf paused in her tracks, her emerald gaze focusing on Ria’s tiny form on the ground. 

“Mind if I join you?” she asked softly, a wine glass in hand. 

Ria wiped her tearstained face with the back of her sleeve. “S-sure. Make yourself comfortable.”

If it had been anyone else, she probably would’ve denied them. But Shadowheart seemed to have an understanding aura about her that Ria couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps talking to someone was what she needed at that moment. 

Shadowheart sat down next to the borrower, but with a considerable distance between them. 

“I think you could use a drink,” Shadowheart said, revealing a thimble pinched in between her index finger and thumb.

Ria blinked away her remaining tears and watched as the cleric dropped a small amount of wine from her own glass into the thimble. Very slowly, she deposited the thimble in front of where Ria was huddled in the dirt.

“T-Thanks.” Ria glanced down at the thimble full of alcohol that sat directly in front of her.

Some mind-numbing wine was exactly what she needed after what had happened today. Immediately she grasped the thimble with both hands and thrust it towards her face, taking hungry gulps of the liquid as if she was parched for the substance.

“Careful not to drink that too quickly,” Shadowheart said, her eyes widening as she watched the tiny borrower devour the wine like she hadn’t had anything to drink for days.

Ria placed the half-full thimble on the ground, releasing a long exhale.

“I really needed that,” she said numbly, pushing strands of red hair out of her eyes.

“I’m not surprised,” Shadowheart replied with a weak smile.   

“Today has been utterly horrible,” Ria sniffled, blinking back more tears that were beginning to well in her eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shadowheart asked gently, concern reflected in her green eyes.

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell the cleric what had happened, perhaps it was the wine, but she proceeded to tell everything to Shadowheart. Shadowheart remained silent, nodding a few times, the half-elf’s eyes growing very wide when Ria described certain events.

When Ria had finally finished telling Shadowheart everything, she took another large gulp of wine from the thimble as the cleric processed the borrower’s retelling of events in shock.

“And that’s why my dagger was in Astarion’s mouth,” Ria said, her words slightly slurred as the effects of alcohol were starting to take hold.

Shadowheart was at a loss for words and took a swig of wine from her own glass.

“My goodness, Lady Shar above…” Shadowheart struggled to think of the right words to say. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I can’t possibly imagine what you must be feeling right now.” 

Ria only managed to give the cleric a small nod in reply before she downed the rest of the wine that was in her thimble, holding it up high above her head as she attempted to get every drop, not caring if some of it spilled down the side of her face and onto the ground.

“You might want to slow down with the wine,” Shadowheart commented.

“Too late for that.” Ria placed the empty thimble on the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I stink like beer and blood and I’ve had the worst day imaginable. I’m going to drink as much as I can.”

“Fair point. I won’t stop you.”

Ria flashed a weak smile at the cleric before heaving a long sigh. 

“I…I don’t know what to think anymore,” Ria murmured, her voice breaking. “Discovering that my kind is some kind of addictive drug for vampires was not what I was expecting.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes in thought. “Well, I don’t think anything could prepare you for that revelation.”

“And I don’t know if I can show my face to Astarion,” she rasped. “After what happened, I…it…it’s all so much.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “What if he tries to eat me again? I thought maybe we were starting to get along, but…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze focusing on the flowing river in front of her, shimmering in the soft rays of moonlight.

“I will blast him into the dirt if he tries anything like that again,” Shadowheart said reassuringly. “But, despite everything that happened, I think he does actually care about you.”

Ria turned her head and glanced upwards at the half-elf. She couldn’t deny that there was certainly some truth to Shadowheart’s words, seeing as he had saved her after all, but she still struggled to comprehend it. 

“Do you…really think so?”

“Of course.” Shadowheart nodded. “I’ve noticed how he’s been looking at you lately. There is a softness there that wasn’t there before. Besides, he could’ve easily eaten you again today, yet he didn’t do that. Not to mention he also saved you from Minthara and brought you back to camp safely. That is a remarkable improvement on his character entirely. And it was all for you.”

Hearing the words come out of Shadowheart’s mouth she slowly started to believe it. Her mind kept on replaying the scene of Astarion stabbing Minthara so brutally – all of that was to save her life. Going back to a few weeks ago, there was no way that Astarion would attempt to do anything like that just for her.

Shadowheart was right. Astarion had to care about her, even if it was only a small amount.

“It is outstanding that he resisted the urge, given how adamant he was on eating you before.” The cleric paused to take a sip of wine before continuing. “I say he cares about you a lot more than what you know.” 

Heat quickly flushed to Ria’s cheeks, except it wasn’t from all the wine she had drunk from before. Her mind swirled as she attempted to process that Astarion, the very man who had nearly ended her life not that long ago, cared about her. It was truly a mind-boggling thought. 

“B-But why would he care about me?” Ria mumbled.

A soft smile curled at the corners of Shadowheart’s lips. “Well, you did suggest that he should feed on thinking creatures. None of us were willing to let him do that.”

Ria pursued her lips in thought. “That…that is true.”

“And perhaps he’s just grown a bit soft for you,” Shadowheart added. “You’re a kind person, Ria. And you’ve probably been the kindest to Astarion out of all of us.”

A small grin tugged at the corners of Ria’s mouth as she thought about what Shadowheart had said. She couldn’t explain why, but the very idea of Astarion warming up to her made her heart skip a beat and a rush of excitement filled her chest.  

“Ow!” Shadowheart suddenly exclaimed, startling Ria out of her thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Ria asked with concern. 

“It’s nothing.” Shadowheart grimaced as she clutched her right hand. “Just an old wound that refuses to heal.” 

Ria’s gaze flicked to the wound on the half-elf’s hand. There was a noticeably dark spot on the back of her hand which seemed to be the source of her pain.

“That is a funny looking wound,” Ria said, the alcohol impairing her judgement somewhat. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, it’s fine.” Shadowheart’s face relaxed as she lowered her hand, the pain subsiding for now. “That is sweet of you to ask, though. But I’ve had this condition for quite some time. It always passes after a while.” 

Shadowheart brought her cup to her lips, taking a long sip from the glass. 

“Are we going to just ignore the fact that you can do magic now?” Shadowheart smiled, obviously wanting to change the subject about the wound on her hand. “I’ve never heard of borrowers being capable of using magic. That is truly something special.” 

“Y-Yeah, it was definitely unexpected,” Ria answered. “I’m planning on telling Gale about it. Maybe he can help me harness it.”

Shadowheart gave a small nod in agreement. “That sounds like an excellent idea. While Gale certainly tends to yap, he is remarkably talented when it comes to harnessing the Weave. Good luck trying not to fall asleep if he offers any magic lessons.”

A small chuckle slipped out of Ria’s lips. “Oh, I’m sure he can’t be that bad.”

“You’re too kind to the wizard,” Shadowheart smirked. “But if anyone can help you, he certainly can.” 

A faint smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she allowed herself to momentarily push the traumatic events of the day to the back of her mind. Talking to Shadowheart had helped her feel a little better despite everything that had happened. It also gave her a different perspective on Astarion and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it yet.

The ground trembled as Shadowheart suddenly got up to her feet.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but…” Shadowheart cleared her throat. “Well, let’s just say I did promise my evening to someone else.”

“Oh, who is the lucky person?” Ria quirked an eyebrow at the cleric.

“Karlach,” Shadowheart responded rather quickly, her voice giddy. “She’s…wonderful. And I’m lucky she’s interested in me too. I hope you don’t mind me leaving so soon.”

“I thought there was something brewing between you too,” Ria smiled softly. “Please don’t let me hold you back. Thank you for coming to see me. Our talk really helped…quite a lot.”

Shadowheart returned the borrower’s warm smile. “Anytime. My tent is always open. Take care of yourself, Ria.”

Rumbling vibrations rattled the earth as the half-elf padded away into the heart of the party, her long pony-tail braid swishing behind her rhythmically as she walked.

Only mere moments after Shadowheart had left, tremors started to become increasingly more violent as Ria was alone with her thoughts.

Gods, who is it now?

Fearing it was a random tiefling and not someone that she knew, Ria staggered to her feet, albeit somewhat wobbly, managing to hold her ground as she prepared to bolt.

Her heart stilled as a pale lean figure quickly came into her vision. 

Astarion.

The elf had his ruby eyes glued to the ground, his gaze scanning around feverishly, and Ria realised with alarm that he was purposefully looking for her.

Her body seemed to freeze up as his footfalls became more intense and his tall figure loomed ever closer. She couldn’t move, as if some holding spell had been placed under her.

Did she even want to run away?

The option to run away unnoticed soon dissipated as Astarion’s biting gaze fell on her small frame. As he realised that it was her, the fierceness of his gaze seemed to almost melt away and become…gentle. 

“Ria?”

Astarion’s voice cut through the cold air, almost startling her even though she knew he was right there.

Ria sucked in a sharp breath.

“Y-Yes?”

Her reply was weak, and her voice trembled.

“Ria, I–“ Astarion cleared his throat. “May I?” He gestured to the spot where Shadowheart had been sitting mere moments ago.

Ria blinked in surprise and quickly nodded in response.

The floor rumbled as Astarion ambled forward, slowly taking a seat right next to her on the ground and sat cross-legged. He had a wine bottle that he was loosely holding in one hand and she was almost tempted to ask if he could pour some of that wine into her thimble.

“I…” Astarion stammered, his voice strangely quiet for once. “I want to apologise for everything that happened today. It was very foolish of me to put you through all of that, all things considered.” 

Ria’s eyebrows shot up in shock as she took in Astarion’s words, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

Was he apologising to her?

“Are you being serious?” she mumbled, not fully convinced that he was being genuine with her.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I am being completely serious. It was idiotic of me to put you through all of that. I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Astarion softly exhaled through his nose as a gentle smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of flowers, so I do hope this will suffice. But, if not, then I understand as well.” 

Perhaps there had been some truth to Shadowheart’s comments from earlier. His gaze was soft, and it lingered over her with a warmth that made her stomach twist itself into knots.

“Well, you could start by giving me some of your wine,” she said, a playful edge to her tone that surprised even herself. “But I do forgive you…you did save my life after all, despite everything, so I can’t completely hate you for that.”

Her response only made his smile deepen, and she caught a hint of his fangs behind his lips.

“You’ve certainly surprised me there, darling. You’re a lot more fun than I originally thought.” He lowered the wine bottle and carefully dropped some of the liquid into her thimble. “You’re welcome to try some, but I must warn you, it tastes awful.”

She lifted the thimble to her lips and hungrily guzzled the liquid without a second thought. Immediately her expression soured as the vile taste of vinegar assaulted her taste buds. It was a red, dry wine that was nowhere near as good as the wine that Shadowheart had offered earlier.

“Okay, that wasn’t the best,” she coughed. 

“See what I mean? Awful.” Astarion took a swig from the bottle himself, his face scrunched in disgust. “I also have something for you.”

Ria quirked an eyebrow, wondering just exactly what Astarion was going to give her. He pulled a tiny dagger – her dagger – out of his pocket and pinched it in between his fingers.

“Don’t worry, I cleaned it thoroughly,” he said reassuringly, holding out the miniature dagger towards her.

Ria leaned forward, grasping the handle of the dagger and turned the blade over in her hand. It gleamed in the dim light of the evening and not a speck of blood could be found on the weapon. It was free of Astarion’s saliva as well, much to her relief.

“T-thanks.” She slipped the blade back into its sheath.

“You know, I do admire you for stabbing my tongue so many times,” Astarion chuckled lightly. “As stupid as it was, you’ve got a killer instinct in you that I like.” His red gaze lingered over her as a seductive grin curled around the corner of his lips, completely drinking her in as she sat beside him. “I never knew vegetarians could be so bloodthirsty.”

Ria’s eyes quickly darted away from Astarion’s intense stare, her heart thudding so fiercely against her ribcage she was afraid it would break free. The mood of the conversation had suddenly shifted, and now she couldn’t stop the flush of heat spreading across her face.

“Well, you did deserve it,” she retorted, pushing a strand of red hair out of her face as she tried to ignore the fluttering feeling that was threatening to burst from her chest. “And now my clothes are completely ruined. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wash the smell of blood and beer out of them now.”

Astarion’s smirk faded, his face softening.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’ve already apologised,” Ria said hastily, waving her hand dismissively, surprised by his gentle tone. “There isn’t much you can do about it now.” 

A pregnant pause encompassed the area, and for a while the only sounds that could be heard was cheering and celebration coming from the centre of the camp as the tieflings and the rest of the group enjoyed the party.

Astarion cleared his throat.

“So, did the drow tell you what you needed to know?”

Ria grimaced briefly at the mention of Minthara, her cackling laugh and scathing words echoing through her brain.

“Y-yeah, I did,” she answered stiffly, pushing the memories of the drow to the back of her mind. “Borrower blood is…very valuable. Apparently, my kind are descended from Fey, and magic runs in the blood. Which would explain why I was able to cast that spell on Minthara.”

Astarion listened intently, his eyebrows shot up upon hearing the revelation of her Fey ancestry. She wondered how he would take the next lot of information.

“Minthara also mentioned that vampires become easily addicted to borrower blood,” she said quietly, her heart catching in her throat as she waited to hear his response. “She…she said it’s almost like a drug to them.”

The elf’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with his usual charismatic grin as he processed the new information.

“Well, that certainly explains a lot,” he answered. “And here I was wondering why your blood was so divine. It seems there’s an actual reason for it.”  

He took another sip of wine from the bottle, running his tongue over his lips as his gaze fell back onto her.

“And yet you didn’t eat me,” Ria said softly, the words leaving her mouth before she had time to think. “With all that temptation, it would’ve been so easy for you to eat me earlier today. But why didn’t you?”

Astarion faltered, somewhat caught off guard by her sudden question.  

“That is an interesting question,” he replied after a moment, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Let’s just say I may have taken a small liking to you, darling. My previous perspective on borrowers may have changed…albeit only a little.”

His response surprised her and she almost choked on the wine that she had just sipped from.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re growing soft on me,” she coughed, wiping wine off her chin with the back of her hand. “I’m still finding it hard to believe that you even like me at all.”

“Emphasis on little, darling,” Astarion said sharply, but the glimmer in his eyes betrayed his words. “Besides, Lae’zel was ready to gut me like a fish when they all thought I had eaten you. I rather like having all my innards inside my body and I want to keep it that way.”

Ria couldn’t help but to chuckle upon hearing his reply, and she took another hearty drink of dry wine from her thimble. At this point, she didn’t care if the wine was awful, she just wanted to drink away the pain from the events of earlier that day.

“Yeah, why in the Nine Hells did you think it was a good idea to put me in your nasty mouth?” she spluttered, the wine really starting to settle into her system now. “Surely you could’ve thought of something else, or were you just too brainless to think of an alternative?”

Astarion dramatically placed a hand over his undead heart and gasped loudly in fake shock. 

“Darling, how rude! My mouth is anything but nasty, thank you very much. I may not be able to see my reflection, but I know for a fact that my teeth are as white as pearls.” He paused to take a sip of wine before continuing. “Anyways, I’ve never been much of a detail’s person, alright? It was the only thing I could think of in the heat of the moment. If those goblins saw you in my cup, you would’ve been eaten for real.”

“Yeah, you really aren’t a detail’s person, that’s for sure.” She guzzled the remaining alcohol from her thimble before placing it firmly on the ground.

Astarion stared at the borrower in genuine surprise, his eyes growing wider as he watched her finish the rest of the wine so effortlessly.

“That was a horrendously large amount of alcohol for someone so small to consume so quickly,” Astarion remarked.

“Nah, this? This was nothing!” Ria hiccupped as she stood up on rather wobbly legs, her eyes immediately falling on the wine bottle that was firmly in his grasp.  

“Darling, I don’t think you should be standing up.”

Ria shook her head rather enthusiastically. “Nah, I’m fine.” She began to giggle and staggered towards where he was sitting across from her.

Astarion watched as the little borrower fumbled forward until she was directly in front of his legs, a goofy grin plastered on her dainty face as she stared up at him.  

“Gimme!” She flopped onto his leg, her tiny hands grabbing fistfuls of the fabric of his pants as she arched her neck to look up at him. “Hand over the wine!”

He cocked an eyebrow, titling his head softly to the side as he processed her request.

“I think not, you’re clearly wasted enough as it is.”

Her lips turned into a massive pout and she banged on his leg with her tiny fists in frustration.

“No, that isn’t fair! I deserve more wine, gods dammit! Especially after what you put me through today, it’s the least that you could do.”

Astarion heaved a long sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine. But this will be the last bit of wine I’m going to offer you for tonight.”

He slowly lowered the bottle down to her level and slightly tilted it downwards. Immediately Ria rushed towards the lip of the bottle and brought her lips to the glass, taking a hungry gulp of the alcohol without a second thought.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Astarion said, tearing the wine bottle away from the drunken borrower. “I think you’ve had far more than you can handle, my dear.”

“Don’t be stupid!” she exclaimed, her face flushed scarlet as her small body sunk into his leg. “For your information I could’ve taken way more than that.”

“I very much doubt that,” Astarion smirked, taking a sip of wine for himself. “You look quite comfortable down there. After today I didn’t think you’d want to be this close to me, even if you’re horrifically drunk.”

“Hmm, well, maybe I don’t hate you that much,” Ria answered, her words rather slurred as she pressed her burning face into his leg. “And you’re right, I am pretty comfortable here.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Astarion grinned, rather amused and surprised by her words all at once.

“Yes, but don’t let it get to that fluffy head of yours,” she retorted, her eyes growing droopy as she leaned into the fabric of his pants.

Rumbling vibrations rattled through the air as the pale elf chuckled. 

“Well, coming from you, that is quite a compliment.” He stared down at her tiny frame on his leg. Her body was so light and small, he could barely feel her there.

“I must ask, what exactly do borrowers do?”

His question made her eyelids fly open and she glared up at the giant vampire in disgust.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it means,” he replied, a playful grin dancing on the edge of his lips. 

Ria frowned upon hearing his reply. “Well, we borrow, of course. I thought that was painfully obvious.”

“And that involves?”

She exhaled loudly, rather annoyed by his question. “We borrow small things that larger folk like you won’t miss. Small pieces of food, bits of fabric, needles, thread…stuff like that.”

“That’s what you would call stealing, darling,” Astarion smirked. “You’re hardly borrowing anything at all.”

“It isn’t stealing!” she exclaimed, glaring harshly at him. 

“Oh, so you give the items back when you’re done with them?”

Ria pressed her lips into a thin line, her brows furrowed. “N-no…but it’s only stuff that people won’t miss, so it hardly counts as stealing.” 

“That still counts, I’m afraid.”

“It does not!”

“It does. Trust me, I am very familiar with the concept.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m too tired for this.” Ria buried her face into the fabric of his pants, her body screaming with exhaustion from everything she had been through over the past few hours. She didn’t have the energy to argue with the giant vampire spawn especially at this hour of the evening, nor did she care how close she was to him right now.

The two of them sat together without saying a word for some time, the sounds of the party gradually growing quieter as everyone began to head into their respective tents for the night. Ria’s eyelids sealed shut as she allowed the events of the day to completely wash over her, her body aching with exhaustion and the effects of the wine sending her into a deep sleep, too tired and drunk to care that she was still lying on Astarion’s leg.  

Astarion soon noticed that she had dozed off on his leg and a warm smile spread across his face. Placing the now empty wine bottle on the ground, he gently scooped Ria’s slumbering frame into his palm and picked up her tiny thimble with his other hand. Cupping her towards his chest, he slowly rose to his feet, being very careful not to jostle her, and began to search for her small tent.

His eyes scanned the camp, a few tieflings were still flitting about, but most of them had since left or gone to bed. He noticed Lae’zel dragging Wyll off outside of the camp in the corner of his eye, and he couldn’t help but to smirk. No doubt the Blade of Frontiers was going to be put in his place that night.

Continuing his search, it didn’t take him long until he found Ria’s small tent…or, rather, what was left of it. The shrunken tent was completely crushed, no doubt stepped on by a tiefling who hadn’t been looking at where they were going. There was no possible way to salvage it in the slightest. 

Gently breathing through his nose, he gazed down at Ria who was still sleeping soundly in his palm. His fingers curled slightly around her slumbering form almost instinctively, a warm feeling settling in his undead heart as he looked at her. She was so peaceful and so very vulnerable right now. There was no way he could just leave her outside by herself with no shelter to sleep under, which left him with only one option. 

He padded quietly towards his tent and slipped inside without making a single noise. No doubt Ria would be mortified if she knew what he was planning on doing, but he wasn’t going to leave her out in the cold. Everyone else was asleep or had other plans for the evening, so it didn’t seem right to bother them when he was perfectly capable of offering her somewhere warm and dry to spend the night. It was only for one night, what could the harm be? 

Using his other hand he grabbed one of the many cushions that adorned his tent, setting it down not far away from his own pillow. Very carefully he moved Ria’s small frame onto the plush surface of the pillow and grabbed a clean handkerchief from his pocket, draping it over her tiny body. Her body was so tiny and light she barely made an indent in the pillow. He watched her small chest rise and fall, her tiny heartbeat pulsing softly through his ears, as strands of auburn hair messily fell over her face. A gentle smile wove across his sharp features as he gazed down at her, a surge of protectiveness and something else – something warm – threatening to burst out of his chest. Dismissing the feeling, he shook his head and made himself comfortable in his own bedroll, his head now next to Ria on her pillow as he got ready to enter a trance. No doubt she’d want to stab his eye out in the morning, but, quite frankly, the idea didn’t bother him. Strangely enough, there was just something about someone who was a hundred times smaller than him threatening him with bodily harm that made it more appealing.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

You tired of seeing me your inbox yet? 🥲❤️ please do tell me if the third Buck/Bucky prompt in a row is too much, I’d hate to ask for something you ain’t feeling and to impose.

But, if you are so inclined I like the idea of what your writing magic could conjure up with:

12. Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue or/and 26. The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin

Thanks in advance once again, for real.

little fix

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Gale "Buck" Cleven x John "Bucky" Egan Rating: E Word Count: 2778

Summary: Gale dabbed on extra cologne in preparation for the many, many hours he knew he'd be spending in the cockpit. Once in Algeria, the heat reinvigorates the scent, and John notices. Gale kinda likes that he does.

Algeria, and the heat rose shimmering from the dusty earth as well as radiating down from the white-hot marble of the sun. The temperature in combination with the losses they’d suffered in enemy airspace had the boys hankering to go off on their own. Limited shade had snaffled those plans, forcing them together.

Gale grabbed the dog tags hanging from his neck, tossing them aside so they flicked around and hung down his back instead, the hot chains tracing a fine, burning line across his throat. He hated waiting. Then he felt bad about that, since this baking purgatory was better than death. He knew how to manage the heat, how to move slowly, how to soak the shirt of his uniform and put it on his head so his vision wouldn’t swim in this dry desert pool. Still, he was irritable, feeling useless. What he really hated was circumstances beyond his control telling him to stop—making him stop. He felt pressed beneath the world’s sweaty palm. It was pointless to wriggle. That wouldn’t get him free.

He stood by his plane, resisting the urge to reach up and lean, as it would’ve meant placing his hand on the burning wing. To occupy his restless hands, he plucked the tank from his chest and flapped it to simulate a breeze that just wasn’t there. He was watching John amble past when his friend stopped abruptly, as if called to attention. John’s head whipped around to face his way. His dog tags glinted. His eyebrows drew together above his sunglasses.

When Gale lazily lifted his hand in greeting, John ignored it, continuing on. Well. Sound seemed muffled to Gale in the heat; he couldn’t hear what John was saying to the boys, but they shifted into halting motion, congregating a hundred yards off. John sauntered back his way.

“You givin’ orders now, Major?” Gale lobbed.

He studied John’s mouth, which twitched and pinched, fighting some smartass comeback. He wondered whether John had just contained an order for him.

“Just keepin’ ’em sharp while we wait for the twelfth,” John said, joining him by the wing. He stopped, pushed his sunglasses up his forehead, and squinted around. “You know you’re not in the shade, right?”

“I won’t feel any real relief until we’re back in the air,” Gale confessed.

He probably should’ve stepped out of the sun though; he could feel the sweat rolling down his skin. Releasing a puff of breath to ready himself for movement, Gale swiftly peeled the damp cotton tank from his skin and let it fall to the ground.

From John, there came a sound like a groan that rippled into a short cough. Gale looked at him askance.

“You smell,” John explained bluntly, before dropping the glasses back over his eyes.

Gale stared at him in numb disbelief.

“You really gonna—”

“No,” John said, cutting across Gale’s retort, “you smell good.”

“Alright,” Gale replied simply.

But he’d felt something at John’s surprising response—a kind of tingle up his back. Refreshing.

“It’s cologne,” he added, when John continued to stand next to him in silence. “I knew I’d be sittin’ in that cockpit a long time, and I didn’t want to smell like I had. Spare my boys’ noses.”

“What’d you do? Bathe in it before we left the base?” John rocked towards him, just a little. His chin tilted up and Gale knew John was inhaling. He was being breathed in.

“Too strong?”

“Nah, I’m just surprised I can still smell it. Seems like England was forever ago.”

Gale shook his head to indicate he didn’t have an answer.

“Must be the heat,” he offered, because that seemed as good as anything.

“Right.”

John stood there another minute, hands on his hips. Sunlight flared off his sunglasses and Gale couldn’t tell whether or not John was staring at him. He glanced towards the men. They were awfully far off, comparing logs, by the looks of it.

“You want help checkin’ your ship?” John proposed.

Gale shot him a quizzical look. Checking his ship? What, had Lemmons taught John some secret fix Gale didn’t know about? He doubted it. John’s hands moved, thumbs tucked into the waist of his pants as they slid towards his fly, palms settling on his hipbones. The triangle made by his index fingers drew the eye. Yeah, Gale doubted it very much.

He heaved on the hatch and offered, “After you.”

John’s mouth stretched into a thin, dangerous smile, and he hauled himself up into the plane. Gale followed.

The air inside was hot and dense, making him immediately lightheaded. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the interior, adding to his disorientation. There was John, removing his sunglasses and casting them aside at the navigator’s station. Careful, Gale wanted to caution. You’ll need those again. But not inside, not in here. He smirked as John suddenly tried to play it cool, scanning his eyes unseeingly across a chart. Gale reached up and braced his palms overhead, just to wait John out, but when John turned, he knew he’d caught the scent of the cologne again. Mostly because John went, “Oh, god,” and swept his gaze down Gale’s body.

Gale was already growing hard when he advanced on John, planting a hand on his chest and shoving him into the navigator’s seat.

“Not sure it’ll hold us both,” he muttered, but John’s hands were on the back of his thighs, and hell, it wasn’t like this wasn’t exactly what Gale’d planned to do.

He straddled John, sinking onto his lap. As soon as he was close enough, John had his nose thrust against the middle of his chest, breathing deeply. Gale prided himself on his ability to maintain his composure, but he couldn’t have denied the broken groan that left him when John’s tongue lapped a wet line up his skin. John exhaled, making the air on the licked strip feel almost cool.

“Can taste it,” John muttered against him. “Sweet, salty.”

Gale grasped John firmly by the chin and raised his face.

“Lemme see,” he said, eyelids lowering as he stared at John’s mouth.

Before he felt John’s lips, he felt his tongue, pressed flat and slick as it stroked across his own. Gale rubbed his hand along John’s unshaven jawline, fingers on its hinge as John opened his mouth wide and Gale went on the offensive. Instinctively, he shifted forward on John’s thighs. John’s hands kneaded down his back before landing on his ass and attempting to yank him even closer. Gale parted his legs a little more, feeling John’s erection, rubbing against it until John broke the kiss with a low grunt, with a hard-bitten, “Fuck, Buck.”

The sweat rolled down Gale’s spine and John wiped it back up, fingers racing to hook into the chain that still hung backwards. The slight pressure on Gale’s throat had him tipping his head back. John’s eager tongue tasted his neck, his teeth closing in a pinching bite below Gale’s jaw.

“Don’t you fuckin’ mark me,” Gale sighed out, even as his cock throbbed with a rush of blood, making him jerk against John—John, who only bit harder.

The plane was becoming a furnace as they swallowed each other’s tongues again in a probing, insistent kiss. John kept grabbing him, like somehow, he could get Gale closer. Gale was sure they were soaked in each other’s sweat, and more than sweat—John pushed a damp patch of his pants into Gale’s abdomen, his cock straining behind it to be palmed, to be sucked, to be allowed to glide over all the skin John’d licked, Gale could only assume.

Unexpectedly, John stood, bringing Gale with him, until he lowered him, huffing a breath against Gale’s cheek as his feet hit the floor and he nudged his hips into John’s. They maintained contact as they edged around each other. Finally, Gale sat, looking idly up at John. He felt a smug smile on his mouth and tapped it with his fingers.

“Get on your knees, John,” he instructed softly.

John gave him a sloppy salute and promptly followed orders.

It was a pity, Gale thought, that the navigator’s station really wasn’t made for this, that he couldn’t slump down more comfortably when John snuck his fingers behind Gale’s knees to draw his hips forward on the seat. He leaned forward, ignoring Gale’s erection, and kissed his stomach.

“Where to, Nav?” he asked.

Gale scraped his fingers into John’s hair and directed, “Due south.”

Having only been on nice dates with nice girls before the war, Gale couldn’t really wrap his head around the sight of John kneeling before him, John’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. He groaned quietly, flexing his hand on the back of John’s head as he bobbed. John took him deep without warning; Gale felt the squeeze of his throat like a near-death experience—the pressure, the flush of heat up his already sweltering body, the darkness dancing at the edges of his vision from the intensity of the pleasure. It beat getting flakked.

Never mind the swaggering walk John’d adopted outside this plane—within it, John had one pace, and it was urgent. Gale’s hands seemed to move without his conscious thought, his fingers tightening in John’s sweat-dampened hair. He couldn’t tell whether he was demanding more or begging for a quarter John wouldn’t give. There was only his grip, John’s mouth, the vivid sound of it that hounded Gale when he shut his eyes, trying, for some reason, to last longer. The 12th could turn up at any time, but he didn’t want this to end. John had his head bowed over Gale’s lap as though in prayer and Gale liked it, liked it way too much.

When he lost himself down John’s throat, John did like they’d been trained to do with mission plans if they had to bail out: he swallowed the evidence. Gale grit his teeth together so the noise he made when he spilt couldn’t gather into a scream the boys would hear. Gradually, he went from tugging on John’s hair to stroking it, mumbling apologies that John didn’t seem to give a damn about as he stared adoringly up at Gale with a grin on his face and his cheek resting on Gale’s knee.

“Goddamn,” Gale mumbled. He rubbed a hand over his face and tucked himself back into his shorts, leaving his pants open for the moment, as though to give the heat John had fuelled a chance to escape.

Looking very proud of himself, John got to his feet. He thrust his shoulders back to stretch his back. It put his hips right in Gale’s sightline, or close enough to be no accident; visible through the khaki, his rigid length was as thick with suggestion as the unusual silence John wasn’t filling.

Languidly, Gale reached for those hips, smirking up at John as he reeled him back in. John reached behind him and took hold of the navigator’s table while Gale thwapped his belt open. Before doing more, Gale caught John’s eye. He crooked his finger beneath the hem of John’s stained tank. He dragged the material up, then leaned in and kissed him there, below his navel, the soft fuzz of hair against his lips, the heavy scent of John’s skin right under his nose.

“You’re goin’ too slow. Gonna get us busted,” John warned, but Gale heard the shimmy in his voice. It came from the tender place he wanted people to think he hadn’t been born with. Impervious all the way through, his smile the smile of a man who couldn’t be touched. And here was Gale. Touching him. He kissed him again, so light and soft, and unzipped his pants.

“It’s not your turn anymore,” Gale reminded him.

John cleared his throat as Gale took hold of his pants and shorts both, pulling them down to expose his rosy cock.

“Roger,” John acknowledged above him, like handing over control of the aircraft to the bombardier. “Your turn.”

Gale gripped his shaft, heard the panted breath.

“My turn,” he agreed.

He began with kisses that barely skimmed the skin, just to drive John wild. It gave Gale time to think, to recognize again and again that this was his best friend, that it felt right, that he’d never been so hot for anyone—nothing to do with the temperature. When he finally added his tongue to circle the head of John’s cock, John went literally weak in the knees, almost falling on Gale. To Gale, it was so incredibly attractive of John to forget how to hold himself up that he completely scrapped his tactic of leisurely, torturous attrition and opened his mouth, sucking as much of John as possible.

“God fucking—” John spat. “Son of a—”

All his curses were clipped as though punched from a machine, but when Gale hummed in enjoyment, John snarled like a big cat, low and lingering and ragged. Gale groaned with his mouth full and John slapped a hand to his naked back, drawing him close. The intimacy of the act—John’s fingers tensed between his shoulder blades, not John’s cock shuttling faster across his tongue—made Gale a little weak in the knees himself. He held John’s bared hips for strength.

“Major? Buck?”

It sounded like Douglass, shouting up to them from outside the hatch.

Gale pulled his mouth wetly from John, which left John looking like he was in no shape to deliver a rational response, even though Gale knew he’d probably try if he didn’t speak up himself.

“Sit tight, Lieutenant,” he called back. “Just got a little tinkerin’ to do on the ship.”

Sitting back, he closed his fist around John’s length and started up a smooth stroke.

“Need any help?” Douglass asked.

“Nah, just some bolts that need tightening, wheels to grease.” Gale winked at Bucky and spat into his palm before returning his grip, stroking faster.

Douglass didn’t reply and Gale felt it: the rush he associated with high-risk scenarios. Could be that Douglass would climb dutifully up through the hatch to offer a hand. He’d see John with his top pushed up, his pants dropped down, gasping and moaning as Gale disassembled him like picking the fluff from a dandelion. The both of them sweating. Gale with his feet planted wide and his hands placed for control, and yet drooling from the corner of his mouth until he picked his moment to swallow. Because John was audience enough, he did it now. There was a hiccup in the rhythm of John’s thrusting as Gale’s throat snugged around him. And then John was shoving insistently at Gale’s shoulder. Gale sat back, disgruntled, and looked up to see John’s beet-red face scrunched in concentration.

“You don’t think I can manage?” he demanded, meaning the swallowing, meaning the hot gush he’d been working himself up to feel pour down his throat. His voice sounded rough.

“I wanna see it on your chest,” John said tightly.

He took himself in hand and Gale tried his best to consume it all with his eyes: the tension in John’s features, the furious pumping of his fist, the pillowy veins that wound down John’s forearms and into the back of his hands. Gale flinched when John came—the sudden warmth of it on his skin. He could feel it sliding down, so he leaned back in the chair as much as he could to slow it. John panted above him, chest heaving, gaze fixed on the milky streaks that resembled Mustangs’ contrails, if Gale’s body were the sky.

“Satisfied?” Gale asked wryly.

John settled his stare on him, a dark, blistering blue.

“Extremely,” he said. He sighed and hung his head. “And I need water.”

Gale jerked his chin towards the hatch.

“Go. But get me somethin’ for…” He glanced from his chest to John.

“Nah, looks good.”

Gale raised his eyebrows.

“Alright,” John conceded, giving a hop as he hitched his clothes back into place. “Stay put, Buck.”

“That’s the plan.”

John patted him twice on the shoulder, then held on. He leaned down for a kiss. The prodding tip of his nose into Gale’s cheek; the enthusiastic press of his lips, full on Gale’s mouth. John straightened, collected his sunglasses, and headed for the hatch. This felt so natural to Gale already, and yet…

“I never thought we’d be here,” he admitted.

John paused, sitting at the edge of the hatch.

“Africa?” he asked facetiously.

Gale snorted. Grinning, John slid his sunglasses into place and dropped out of sight.

[navstuffs]

Hey! First and foremost, congrats to Brazil for stopping Bolsonaro on the elections! (not completely but still, this is a great feat)

The second thing: lately I've been thinking how poor Carlos must feel knowing that he probably can never go back in Brazil 🥺. So I thought: reader notices this and decides to make something special for him. When he comes back for a long and stressful week of work he finds reader waiting for him with the dining table full of traditional Brazilian dishes like Feijoada or Pão de Queijo. All the while there's soft Bossa Nova music. When he asks reader why they did this they say that they've noticed that he's been feeling homesick so they thought of making all of this to make him feel a little closer to home. "I know how much you miss your country, but know that I love you. So whenever you'll feel down I'll be there to hold you, to make you feel safe. *chuckles* and you know what they say 'home is where the heart is' right?". After dinner high quality cuddles ensures.

No need to rush, take your time and thanks in advance! Have a good day!

Arroz e Feijão (Rice and Beans)

Pairing: Carlos Oliveira x GN!Reader

Summary: Carlos is homesick and you help to comfort him.

Warnings tags: hurt/comfort, carlos is always brazilian in my fics, translation from pt-br to eng at the bottom

Author's Notes: first of all, thank you! bolsonaro isn't in prison YET BUT is something, so consider this fic an ode to that. SECOND, this fic is SO personal to me. in my pov, the sentence "home is where your heart is" IS very hard to begin to understand, so writing this was certainly a challenge but one i welcome with open arms. thank you so much for requesting with me, i hope from the bottom of my heart you like it as much as i enjoyed writing this!

my carlos's masterlist

Carlos finally parks his car in the driveway of your shared house, rubbing his face. It had been a long and stressful work week, and staying away from you didn't make it any better. To make matters even worse, he had felt homesick for quite a while. You see, feeling homesick never entirely leaves someone. It is a pain Carlos learned how to manage and live with it. He never shared anything in deep detail, only vague responses if you asked. Not because he didn't trust you, no, Carlos just didn't want to worry you.

When Carlos exits the car, his eyes follow the lights in the kitchen, and he smiles. You are home. He couldn't wait to shower, lay down with you, and forget that the rest of the world ever existed. Listen to you tell him about your day, and update him with gossip.

When he enters the house, the first thing he notices is the food scent. It smells so familiar Carlos forgets to take off his backpack, walking straight to the dining room. A few pots are closed, but he can see the fresh white rice cooked and the black beans still boiling through the glass lid. He wants to open another one when you walk from the kitchen with another enclosed bowl. You smile happily when you see him, placing the bowl carefully on the table before running to hug him.

"You are back!" You exclaim, excited, not wanting to let go of him.

"What is all of this?" Carlos asks, his voice low.

"Rice and beans? Oh, I have farofa ready and some salgadinhos, as well. I ordered the last ones, I won't lie, but the rest I did myself. And mhm, also!" You jump up and down as you open the bowl you just brought from the kitchen, displaying twenty brigadeiros. "I made those from scratch and finally gave them the small ball form, so we won't have to eat from the pot like all the other times. I am so excited for you to try because I don't know if they turned out well and…Carlos, are you okay?"

You stop talking, Carlos's expression worrying you. He looks speechless, his eyes going from the food to you. It is like you have read his thoughts.

"Why?" His voice comes out barely a whisper, and you realize, a chill going down your body, that Carlos is holding back tears.

"I know you miss Brazil, and you don't tell me," You reply, making him stare at you. "I see in your eyes. So I decided to pull up this little dinner. I know it is not a lot, but—"

Carlos doesn't let you finish, pulling you into a tight hug. He can't even express his gratitude for having you in his life. For you love. For your patience with him. You gently rub his head, listening to some silent sobs coming from your man. You pull away slowly, wiping some of his tears as you tell him.

"I want you to know that if you ever fall, I will be here. Don't bottle up those feelings, okay? I am here for you. Eu te amo muito."

"Eu amo você também. Você é a minha vida."

After dinner, where you think you saw Carlos shed one or two tears when he ate your rice and beans. Carlos pretty much praised you the whole night: how everything was so good because it tasted with love. By the end of the night, you sit by the sofa, waiting for Carlos. You smile, tapping your lap when he reappears clean and wearing pajamas. He lays his head on your chest, a purring sound coming from his chest.

"Eu te amo tanto. Você sabe, não sabe?"

"I know. I love you too. Now sleep, rest, meu amor."

It doesn't take long for Carlos to fall asleep on your chest. You smile, kissing the top of his forehead. It is good to have him back home.

Eu te amo muito = I love you so much

"Eu amo você também. Você é a minha vida." = I love you too. You are my life.

Eu te amo tanto. Você sabe, não sabe? = I love you so much. You know that, don't you?

Meu amor = my love

[aboutchriss]

FOUR RULES

Pairing: bangchan x fem!reader

Tags: smut, dom!chan, oral sex, fem!receiving, I think that’s it

Author note: kinda rushy, especially the ‘smut’ part but since English it’s not my first language I don’t know how to write and express what I have in my mind in English, because I think about what I want to write in Italian and traslate it English in my head, but it’s not the same, i find it cringe this kind of stuff in Italian so😂😭

I swear I’m going to be better I have to be more confident in my English, no one it’s going to die if I made a mistakes right?

-✉️

I’m so insicure about my English, as I said it’s not my first language and I’m always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that, so if you find mistakes please let me know, I’ll be thankful and also my English will improve!

-✉️

“You know that you’re in trouble?”

He asks while driving at his place.

You don’t answer, you don’t want to because you know that it’s your fault if it’s mad, horny and with a boner.

You didn’t do anything bad, just put your hand on his thigh, and rub it up and down occasionally, at dinner and in front of the kids, but that’s not the problem, the problem it’s that you know that he hates when you tease him in front in public, especially in front of the kids, but who pay attention to this stupid little rule? Exactly, no one, especially not a brat like you.

“I didn’t do anything wrong”

You say putting once again you hand on his thigh

“Y/n stop it”

“Mhhh, why so serious?”

“Because I have a boner, and I had it for the last hour. In front of the of the kids, and take your hand off my thigh please”

You try to not to laugh, but you can’t, you giggle a little

“Okay, you’re fucking with the wrong person y/n, you’re lucky that we’re at home, run inside before I fuck you in front of the neighbors”

“Okay, I’ll wait you in the bedroom love”

You kiss him on the cheek before leaving the car and literally run inside, you run upstairs and sit on the bed waiting for him, you don’t even undress because you know how much he loves to take off your clothes.

Couple of minutes later he enter into the room the two of share, he’s mad, you know it, from the way he looks at you and from the way that he leaning at the door frame, with, hands in his pocket.

“Stand up”

He says

“Mhh, my feet hurts because of the heels”

“I said stand up”

“And I said no”

“You fucking brat, stand up”

“Okay, okay”

You stand up and walk towards him

“See I’m front of you, what are gonna do right-“

He doesn’t let you finish, he starts kissing you, his hands going up and down on your body, he lift you up and you wrap your legs around him, you can feel his boner.

He walks towards the bed, your back is touching the fresh sheets right now.

“You know what’s about to come right?”

He says stop kissing you

“Yes, and I can’t wait”

“You’re such a brat”

“And you love it”

You say

“Please take this dress off me, I wanna feel you inside of me, please”

“No, I don’t think so, I wanna play a little”

“Oh c’mon”

“Hips up for me baby”

You do as he said, he roll lift up your dress and take off your panties. He kiss your inner thighs, sucking here and there, you know that you’re going to have marks all over them tomorrow but you don’t care; he lick your pleasure center

“Fuck Chan”

“What was that?”

He lift his head up

“What?”

“Did you say fuck?”

“No, Nono you misheard me”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmh”

“Which are my four rules? You remember them?”

“Yes, yes I do”

“So?”

“One: no swear words”

He kiss your clit

“Two: don’t make a sound”

He’s eat you out now

“T-three: br-br-breathe”

You cover your mouth with one hand, trying to stay quiet as possible, even if you want scream his name out loud

“F-uc-, f-ou-four: ask permi-ask permission to cum”

“Such a good girl”

“And sweet, you taste so sweet you know that”

“Fuck Christopher, I’m gonna cum, can I cum? Please?”

He doesn’t answer, he’s edging you

“Please, Chris, I-I don’t think I can-please, can-can I cum?”

“Okay, baby, cum for me, cum for Chris”

When you have his permission you cum, shivers going down your spine, you already broke rule number one so you just cover your mouth, trying to keep your moans as quiet as possible

“You broke rule number one”

He says sitting next to you

“I know I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to”

He kiss your lips

“So, what my punishment?”

You ask, looking at him

“No sex, for a week”

“What? Why? No, what about you? What about your boner?”

“I’m fine, but you. You can’t feel me inside of you for week”

“Fuck”

He laugh

“Fuck, again, fuck”

“Okay, two weeks”

“Fuc-“

You cover your mouth with one hand

“Okay, okay, no sex for two weeks”

“I’m sorry”

You kiss him

“It’s okay, let’s take a shower so I can clam down”

“I feel sorry”

“About what?”

He asks standing up, offering his hands to stand up

“Your boner, it’s not midnight yet, so the two weeks may be starts from tomorrow”

“Mhh, okay”

He smiles at you

“Again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say fuck”

You literally slap your mouth

“Sorry”

He laughs at you, showing his dimples

“C’mon, let’s go or I’m going to have blue balls, and I don’t want them”

“I love you”

He says

“I love you too Channie”