#Pulse Connect Secure

[orbitbrain]

Over 4,000 Vulnerable Pulse Connect Secure Hosts Exposed to Internet

Over 4,000 Vulnerable Pulse Connect Secure Hosts Exposed to Internet

Home › Risk Management Over 4,000 Vulnerable Pulse Connect Secure Hosts Exposed to Internet By Ionut Arghire on December 09, 2022 Tweet More than 4,000 internet-accessible Pulse Connect Secure hosts are impacted by at least one known vulnerability, attack surface management firm Censys warns. Touted as the most widely deployed SSL VPN solution, Pulse Connect Secure provides remote and mobile…

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha makes a new furry little friend and becomes captivated by its owner along the way.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 4270

Natasha shoots upright in her bed, her heart racing and cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for the knife tucked nearby, gripping it tight as she scans the room, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She’s met with silence. The darkened space of her room at the Compound was empty of any threat. No footsteps, no shadows lurking—just her.

Exhaling shakily, Natasha lowers the blade, pressing her free hand against her eyes, as though she could push away the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

The memories linger, though. They always do.

A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s 4:00 A.M. Too early for anyone else to be awake. 

But for Natasha, this was normal.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, trying not to dwell on how long it had taken to fall asleep in the first place. 

Three hours of sleep was better than nothing. 

She dresses quickly, pulling on her jogging clothes in automatic, well-practiced movements, intent on escaping the restlessness that always comes with her dreams.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the first hints of light barely on the horizon, but Natasha set off anyway, her pace swift and determined.

With every stride, the tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing falling into a steady rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her feet against the pavement.

This was her moment of relief—where she could forget, even if just for a while—pushing her body harder, faster, hoping to leave behind the lingering shadows of her past.

After a few miles, Natasha slows to a stop beside a tree, her breath coming in even pants as she stretches out her arms.

The world was still quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

Then, faintly, she hears something.

A soft, distressed sound.

She freezes, tilting her head to listen. 

There it is again—a tiny cry coming from somewhere nearby.

From above? 

Her gaze lifts upward, and there, high up in the tree, a little black cat clings precariously to a branch, its claws struggling to maintain a grip on the rough bark. 

Natasha blinks in surprise, but before she can react to the sight, the cat lets out a desperate yowl and slips.  

Moving on instinct, Natasha surges forward and catches the cat just before it hits the ground. She cradles the small creature against her chest securely.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, her fingers gently checking for any injuries. Its fur is soft and clean—not a stray, then. 

Her suspicion is confirmed when she notices the sleek collar around its neck, the gold tag gleaming faintly in the early light.

Natasha tilts the tag to read the name engraved on it.

“Widow?” 

An amused smirk tugs at her lips at the irony.

At the sound of its name, the cat looks up at her with wide, inquisitive yellow eyes and lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle softly, sinking down to sit against the tree with the cat still nestled in her arms. 

“What were you doing up there?” she asks, her voice a soft murmur as she scratches behind its ears.

The cat responds with a long, dramatic meow as if offering some elaborate excuse for its predicament.

Natasha smiles softly in amusement before glancing at the tag again, searching for any contact information but finding none.

“Well, you obviously belong to someone,” Natasha muses, lifting the cat to meet its gaze. “They must really trust you to make it back on your own, huh?” 

In response, the cat swats playfully at Natasha’s face, its soft paws barely grazing her skin.

Natasha shakes her head with a smile and tries to set the cat down to let it go on its way, but to her surprise, the cat clings to her, its claws digging into the front of her shirt.

“Hey, easy now,” Natasha grumbles, gently trying to pry the cat off, but it stubbornly clings to her, refusing to let go.

“Really? This is the thanks I get for saving you?” she deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature. 

The cat chirps, blinking up at her innocently before nuzzling against her chin. 

“Alright, I surrender,” Natasha sighs, settling back against the tree in resignation, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat’s fur.  

The warmth of the tiny creature in Natasha’s arms is unexpectedly comforting. Before she realizes it, her eyelids grow heavy, and exhaustion finally pulls her under.

It’s not until a soft movement against her arms stirs her that Natasha blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. As her vision clears, the first thing she sees is your face, watching her from a nearby bench, chin resting casually on your hand.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone flat but not unkind.

Natasha blinks again, still shaking off the grogginess from the unexpected nap. She glances down to find Widow still nestled in her arms, staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

As she processes your words, Natasha loosens her hold and sits up straighter.

Widow hops onto her lap, stretching languidly and letting out a tiny yawn, completely at ease.

“Your cat was stuck in a tree,” Natasha explains, her voice still rough with sleep. “I caught her when she fell.”

You raise an eyebrow, your gaze flicking to the lazily stretching cat. 

“You do know they land on their feet, right?” 

Natasha opens her mouth to argue but pauses, catching the subtle teasing in your tone. She leans back with a small smirk, deciding to tease you back.

“Widow is kind of a strange name for a cat.”

At her remark, you scoff and cross your arms, leaning back on the bench with a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Wow, so you’re a thief and you’re judgy. Maybe next time I won’t be so nice and let you finish your nap.”

“I didn’t steal your cat,” Natasha retorts, unable to suppress the slight curve of her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “She wouldn’t let go of me. Also, you watched me sleep. Isn’t that a little weird?” 

You shrug with casual ease and respond with a softened tone. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

Your bluntness catches Natasha off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinks, surprised not only by your remark but by the realization that she hadn’t woken up immediately when you arrived. 

The fact that she was able to rest so peacefully with a practical stranger nearby is something she never would’ve thought possible—but here she is.

As the sun rises higher for the start of the day, its gentle light softens the tension between you. It casts a warm glow over everything, including you, and Natasha finds herself at a loss for words at the sight.

After a moment, you stand, calling Widow to your side. 

The cat stretches one last time before hopping down from Natasha’s lap and trotting over to you with a playful spring in its step.

As you turn to leave, you glance back at Natasha, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Maybe find a better spot for naps next time,” you say, giving her a backward wave. “Take care, Miss Black Widow.”

Natasha watches you walk away, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. She exhales, running a hand through her hair as she tries to shake off the lingering sensation.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “You too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A few days later, Natasha returns to her room after another one of her early morning runs, her body drenched in exhaustion from both physical exertion and the sleepless nights filled with nightmares. 

She lets out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to shake off the haunting memories of the recent dream when a soft scratching sound from her window catches her attention.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she spots the source of the noise. Hurrying over, she opens the window and carefully scoops the black cat perched on the sill into her arms.  

“How did you get all the way up here?” Natasha asks curiously.

Widow meows softly in response, twisting in her arms to bat playfully at a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Natasha huffs in amusement, leaning her head back to keep the hair out of reach.

Her gaze drops to the collar around Widow’s neck, reminding her of the lack of contact information to reach you. 

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls the memory of you accusing her of being a thief. Now, somehow, your cat has found its way to her again, staring up at her with those innocent, wide eyes.

Natasha taps the top of Widow’s nose lightly in mock scolding.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with your owner again,” she mutters, half-playful, half-exasperated.

Unbothered by Natasha's words, Widow glances around the room with mild curiosity before letting out a pitiful meow, pawing at Natasha with an urgent expression.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, confused. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Her meows grow more insistent, her tiny voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“What do you want? Food?” she asks.

The cat immediately quiets at her suggestion, eyes shining with eager anticipation. Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“All right, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

An hour later, Natasha finds herself in the Compound’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she reflects on the bizarre morning.

Just as the aroma of fresh coffee begins to fill the room, the elevator doors slide open, and Tony Stark comes strolling in, waving his phone at her.

“Someone explain why the emergency communication system I created is sending messages for cat food.”

Before Natasha can respond, Peter Parker swings in through an open window, landing at the kitchen counter with a large bag of cat food under his arm. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask, flashing a wide grin.

“No worries, Mr. Stark! I saw the message and picked some up on my way,” Peter declares proudly, placing the bag triumphantly on the counter.

“Thanks, Peter,” Natasha says, taking the bag and raising an eyebrow at Tony. “At least someone’s reliable around here.” 

“Anytime, Miss Romanoff,” Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as he moves toward the sitting area. 

Meanwhile, Tony scoffs at her teasing jab, muttering her words mockingly under his breath as he turns to leave. But he freezes mid-stride, pointing toward the couch.

“Uh, what is that?” 

Natasha follows his gaze and sees he’s referring to where Wanda is sitting on the sofa, using her powers to create a small red ball of energy for Widow, who is happily pouncing at it.

“Her name is Widow,” Natasha explains as she pours the cat food into a bowl.

“You named a cat after yourself?” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “And people say I’m the narcissist.”

“She’s not mine,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes as she walks past him toward the sitting area.

“So, you stole it,” Tony deadpans.

“Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?” Natasha huffs, exasperated, as she sets the bowl on the floor.

At the sight, Widow scampers over, letting out a happy meow before digging into the food.

Natasha smiles softly, scratching the cat’s head as it eats, though her thoughts inevitably drift to you, wondering how she will return your cat to you.

Wanda, who’s been watching the scene with an amused grin, chimes in, “Natasha has a crush on the owner. She keeps thinking about her.”

“Oh, this just got interesting,” Tony says, leaning on the back of a chair with an intrigued smirk. “When did that happen?”

Natasha glares at Wanda before answering, “I met her on one of my runs. We talked. That’s it. Also, what have we said about reading people’s minds?”

Wanda raises her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not, I swear. Your thoughts are just…really loud, and most are about her.”

Tony chuckles at the revelation, thoroughly entertained. He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, grinning.

“Nat, there are better ways to get someone’s attention than stealing their pet. I could give you some tips if you want.”

Natasha huffs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need your help, Stark.”

Tony, unbothered by her dismissal, smirks.

“Then why haven’t you contacted her about the cat?”

“I don’t have her contact info,” Natasha admits reluctantly. “I didn’t get her number.”

Peter, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly perks up.

“I have an idea!”

He pulls out his phone from his backpack, snaps a picture of Widow, and begins typing. A moment later, he shows the screen to Natasha. 

The post reads: “Cat found at Avengers Compound,” with Widow’s picture attached. 

“What’s this?” Tony asks, peering over Peter’s shoulder.

“It’s the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ app,” Peter explains animatedly. “You told me to focus on local stuff as Spider-Man, so I made this app where people can report crimes or activities happening in New York. This way, Miss Romanoff’s crush will see the post and know where to find her cat.” 

At his last casual remark, Tony bursts into laughter while Wanda hides her smile behind her hand.

“All right, that’s enough,” Natasha says, scooping up Widow and grabbing the food bowl. “Come on, Widow. Let’s get you some peace and quiet.”

With that, she leaves the room, escaping the playful teasing of the others.

Later that afternoon, Natasha returns to the common room and finds Peter frantically overturning the sofas.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, arms crossed.

Startled, Peter jumps, dropping the sofa back to the ground with a loud thud.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pleads.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “What did you lose?”

Peter hesitates, then slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Mr. Stark gave me a USB with the new suit design, and I was going to show him my modifications, but now I can't find it anywhere.” 

He starts pacing, clearly panicking, as he continues.

“I thought I put it in my backpack, but it’s gone. If I lost it in the city, Mr. Stark will never let me help with modifications again!”

Natasha steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, calm down. Tony will understand,” she says, nodding toward the window. “Why don’t you go check your place again? I’ll keep an eye out here.” 

Peter takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Miss Romanoff,” he says before pulling his mask back on and swinging out the window.

Natasha shakes her head with a small smile and resumes her original task—finding Widow, who had somehow slipped out of her room without Natasha noticing.

The little cat was proving to be surprisingly clever and stealthy. It seems you obviously trained her well.

After searching around for a bit, Natasha is about to check with Wanda when a pair of yellow eyes appear from the shadows on one of the black sofas.

Widow stares up at her, completely unbothered.

Chuckling in realization, Natasha sits beside the cat, gently scratching her head.

“You’re pretty good at hiding. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

Widow responds with a bored yawn, stretches her body, and then hops onto Natasha’s lap, curling up contentedly. As her eyes begin to flutter closed, Natasha frowns in realization.

“No, no, you can’t fall asleep on me. I’ve got things to do.”

Widow ignores her, already deep in sleep. When Natasha hears the soft sound of the cat’s snoring, she throws her head back against the sofa in disbelief.

Sighing, Natasha spots a tablet on the nearby table. She carefully reaches for it without disturbing Widow and begins doing some work.

After a moment, the rhythmic purring from the cat brings an unexpected feeling of calm and comfort to her, and before she knows it, Natasha’s eyes start to grow heavy, and she drifts off without realizing it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when she wakes up, blinking groggily. As her eyes adjust, she notices a familiar face beside her—you.

For a brief moment, Natasha wonders if she’s still dreaming. Though, she doesn’t usually have dreams this pleasant. 

But then your eyes lift from your phone at her movement, and you raise an eyebrow, amused.

“For a hero, you sure take more naps than I expected.” 

Natasha blinks away the remnants of sleep, sitting up straighter, and tilts her head at you curiously.

“How did you get in here?”

You gesture casually toward the elevator. 

“I came by after seeing the post, and your teammate—Wanda, I believe—she said she recognized me, so she directed me here.”

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, you lean your head on your hand as your eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I thought I told you to find a better napping spot. This one’s just going to give you neck cramps.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a small smile as she gestures to Widow, still sound asleep on her lap. 

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Your gaze drifts down to the cat, and you sigh knowingly.

“Widow, stop pretending and get off her.”

Natasha frowns in confusion at your words and snaps her gaze to the seemingly asleep creature on her lap.

For a second, the cat doesn’t move, but when you call her name again, a little more sternly, the cat’s eyes snap open.

Widow lets out an indignant meow before hopping off Natasha’s lap and licking her paws casually as if nothing happened.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“What a little liar.”

Groaning softly, she stretches out her stiff muscles and catches you watching her, your gaze lingering for a second too long.

When you realize she’s noticed, your eyes flicker back to your phone.

Natasha smirks, about to tease you, but then you show her the screen of your phone—the post Peter made about Widow.

“I need you to take this down,” you say, your tone serious.

Natasha furrows her brow but nods.

“Sure, I can do that. But why? It looks like she’s a hit with everyone.”

Your smile turns faint as you stand, the lightness in your expression turning somber.  

“Not all attention is good attention,” you say cryptically. 

Before Natasha can ask what you mean, you grab a pen from the table and reach for her hand. She watches in surprise as you scribble something on her palm. Your touch lingers for a moment, making her feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Here,” you said, finishing. “If Widow finds her way to you again, you’ll know how to reach me. Though, hopefully, you won’t need it too often.” 

Natasha glances at the number on her palm, then back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Am I only allowed to use this for cat-related emergencies?” 

 You smirk, though there’s a hint of something more serious in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m someone you’d want to get involved with.” 

Natasha holds your gaze, intrigued.

But the tension is broken when Widow hops back onto the sofa, drawing both of your attention. The cat tries to burrow into the cushions, as if searching for something or determined to get comfortable again. 

You sigh, picking her up despite her annoyed yowl. Before leaving, you glance back at Natasha, tilting your head thoughtfully.

“Though… I guess a hello from the Black Widow every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”

With that, you head to the elevator, disappearing behind its doors.

Natasha looks down at the number on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. She finds herself hoping that Widow might "accidentally" find her way back to the Compound again soon—if only for another chance to see you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha didn’t have to wait long for another chance to see you, after all.

Just a few hours after your departure, late at night when the Compound was quiet, Natasha—still unable to sleep—wandered into the common room.

To her surprise, there you were, dressed in dark, stealthy clothes, frozen the moment you noticed her. 

Her instincts kick in immediately, and within seconds, Natasha has her weapon drawn, pointing it directly at you.

Yet, you show no sign of panic. Instead, you raise your hands slowly and tilt your head at her with a calm, almost amused expression. 

“You really shouldn’t be up this late, you know,” you say lightly, as if this was a casual conversation. “Messes with your sleep schedule.” 

Natasha ignores the teasing, her gaze unwavering and her senses on high alert. She didn’t feel any malice from you, but the situation is far too strange to let her guard down. 

“How did you get in undetected?” she asks, her voice low, tinged with suspicion.

With deliberate slowness, you gesture with one hand toward the open window behind you. 

“That was left unlocked. Pretty reckless for the Avengers.”

Natasha’s frown deepens as she glances at the window, already making a mental note to have Peter redo security training. 

“And the alarms?” Natasha asks, her weapon still trained on you.

You shrug casually.

“Let’s just say we have a lot of experience when it comes to not being seen.”

Natasha's eyes narrow at your words. "We?" 

You nod toward her feet, and Natasha briefly glances down.

Widow is there, casually walking through her legs and brushing her fur against Natasha with a soft purr, completely at ease.

When her gaze snaps back to you, you gesture toward her weapon. 

“Mind putting that away? I’m unarmed. You can check if you like.”

Natasha hesitates, her eyes studying you carefully, looking for any hint of deception.

But there is none.

Reluctantly, she holsters her weapon and steps closer, reaching out to pat you down.

You stand still, hands raised, letting her search you for any hidden weapons or gadgets.

“So, what are you?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp. “A spy?”

“Reformed thief, technically,” you reply with a casual shrug. “I don’t do this sort of thing much anymore.” 

You sigh lightly, casting a glance at Widow, who had settled by Natasha’s feet and is now nonchalantly licking her paw. 

“She, however, is still struggling to break her old habits.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing at the cat.

“You’re telling me this cat’s a thief?”

You chuckle softly, catching the disbelief in her voice.

“I’m serious. Check my pocket—it’s the reason I’m here.”

Frowning, Natasha reaches into your jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against something small and metallic. She pulls out a USB drive, her eyes widening slightly in realization when she notices the small Spider-Man logo sticker on the side.

“I didn’t realize Widow had swiped it before we left earlier,” you explain, your tone sheepish. “I came back to return it before there’s any trouble.”

“Is that why you wanted the post deleted?” Natasha asks, her suspicion now tinged with curiosity. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

There is a brief pause as you meet her gaze. Your smile turns slightly rueful at the concern in her voice, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between you.

“Let me worry about that,” you say softly, your tone more serious than before. Then you lift your hands slightly in surrender, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “So, are you going to arrest me, or am I free to go?” 

At that moment, Widow trots over, settling in front of Natasha and meowing softly as if to plead on your behalf. 

Natasha crosses her arms, her lips curling slightly in amusement at the sight, though the concern hasn’t left her eyes. 

“You two sure know how to double-team a person.”

You chuckle, realizing Natasha’s letting you go, and call your cat’s name. Widow immediately jumps into your arms, curling up comfortably. You look back up at Natasha, your expression softening.

“I told you—you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

Natasha’s gaze softens in response.

“Your cat seems to think otherwise.”

You smile at that, gently shifting Widow in your arms.

“She’s got good instincts. A good judge of character, too. So, you must be really special if she’s interested in you.” 

For a moment, silence settles between you, broken only by Widow’s soft purring. The tension eases, but something still lingers beneath the surface—an unspoken understanding that there was more to your story, more to you, than you were letting on.

With a small smile, you take Widow’s paw and give Natasha a playful wave.

“You should head to bed soon, Miss Black Widow,” you tease softly, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you napping in random spots again.”

As you move toward the window, Natasha steps closer, her voice lowering.

“You know, I don’t mind the visits from Widow. And the two of you don’t have to sneak in or anything. Just…come by whenever.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Are you sure about that?” 

Natasha holds your gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

You study her for a moment, then smile—a genuine, appreciative smile that softens the usual teasing banter.

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a playful tone.

With a quick nod, you adjust Widow in your arms and slip through the window with practiced ease. Natasha watches you disappear into the night, her mind spinning with questions and curiosity.  

One thing’s certain: this won't be the last time she’d see you and your cat. And to her surprise, she finds herself looking forward to the next time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: thank you for reading!

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Cockwarming Simon as you two make out in his office.

From the request here

“I need it in ya, baby,” Simon gasps in between the breaks in your lips connection. “Just for a bit. Ya know ya fuckin’ want me in ya too.”

The tiny office is silent save for the deep groans and sharp breaths as Simon holds you close, you perched comfortably on his beefy thighs while he sits at his desk so that he can steal kiss after heated kiss, relishing in the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Rough hands run up the length of your back, following your spine over your shirt until they reach the back of your head where he uses them to draw your face in tighter until your mouth stings from the pressure. 

Sitting in the middle of his lap you can feel his cock poking against the cheek of your ass, pulsing and throbbing as it strains against the fabric of his pants. It’s no surprise what he needs; it’s the same thing he wants every time he calls you into his office for a “meeting” during your lunch break, which is becoming more and more frequent these days.

You are a very addictive problem, one that he is constantly losing himself in and making every excuse in the book to spend as much time wrapped up in that he can. A pretty thing like you, how is he supposed to keep his hands off? If that means setting up a quick make out session to get through the day, then he’s gonna make it happen one way or another.

“Have training in a bit,” you mutter as you break from his mouth just for a split second. “Don’t want to be late.”

He’s right back on you before the last beat of your reply can hit, not wanting to be parted from you for longer than needed. It takes a minute before he tries to reason with you again. “Not gonna be late,” he reassures. “But how the hell am I supposed to stay outta ya, hmm? Not when ya feel so fuckin’ good. Just want ya to warm me for a bit and then I’ll make sure you’re outta here with plenty ‘a fuckin’ time.”

His hand rubs along one of your thighs as the other is still tangled in the strands of your hair, not wanting to give you the chance to get away from the barrage of his lips. Fuck, it’s getting harder to think straight the longer his mouth captures yours in that tangled dance that he seems to be an expert in. You lean into his embraces a bit more and Simon is sure he has you right where he wants you now.

There is not a chance in hell you are going to deny him. “You better make it up to me later,” you say breathlessly and you can feel his lips upturn into a smile against your own.

The grip on your hair tightens as he gives it a sharp tug. “Take off your fuckin’ pants.”

That gravely, heavily accented tone sends a full shiver down your spine. No one can make a demand like that sound so fucking good, especially now that he’s made you delirious off his kisses alone.

The officers building is full of people today so privacy is near non-existent and though you know this is probably a terrible idea, you can’t be stopped. Helping you off his lap Simon sets you on your feet to the side of the desk, giving you the space to do what you need to do. He watches with hungry eyes as you undo the button keeping your bottoms secure; goddamn you are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?

Adjusting himself, he sits back more in his chair. “Slower,” he demands firmly. 

Instantly your movements become measured as you take your time undressing while you keep those beautiful eyes directly on him. He doesn’t break eye contact at all; instead his hand slips down over his abdomen to the crotch of his own pants where he tugs at the fabric tenting there before massaging the spot as he watches your little striptease. Those unflattering uniforms keep all those voluptuous curves hidden from his view and so any chance he gets to see you out of them is a treat indeed. 

You drag the zipper down painfully slow, making sure to give him all the tantalizing he wants. As the front now hangs open, you slide your hands back to your hips where you slip your fingers into the waistband and begin to push them down until the top seam of the panties clinging around your hips are exposed. 

Eyes unblinking, breathing stayed, Simon is caught in the moment, his hand pulling up the hem of his shirt just over his navel so that he can fiddle with his belt buckle until he can pry the damned thing loose. He grunts as he has to roll his hips back so that he can slip his hand between the bulk of stocky muscle on his lower abdomen and the seam of his pants to get it off. The metallic clink rings out and he quickly undoes the rest, plunging his hand inside to pull out his cock so that he can palm it and give it a proper stroke as you continue on. 

Instantly you freeze as your eye catches that trail of sparse hair traveling down the line of his stomach below his belly button towards his member and your mouth begins to salivate and a hard, throbbing pulse between your thighs makes your legs feel like liquid. God, you are so down bad for your superior that it is bordering on pathetic the way that even that small patch of hair has you chomping at the bit.

Simon clears his throat as he catches your sight lingering and as you meet the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his kiss-raw lips, you refocus on the task at hand. These pants still have to go and time is of the essence. You continue on, pushing the fabric down over the curve of your ass to your thighs and then your ankles in the same slow fashion, only this time more unsteady as your heartbeat pounds. They hit the ground and those damned pants are finally off; there you stand before him in nothing but your panties.   

 “Off,” he hisses as his head nods down to the last article of clothing keeping you from being filled by him.

There’s heat bubbling in your cheeks now, making them flush, and though you are almost rendered dumb just from the tension alone there’s still a little fire in you yet. “What’s the magic word?” you ask with a good bit of sass. 

A chuckle escapes his mouth as his hand strokes harder around his dick; he does love a bit of cocky pushback, but make no mistake that that will be remembered for later. His mouth yearns to devour your lips again and he doesn’t want to wait any more than he already has, so he lets it be…for now. Leaning forward in his seat he reaches out and his large hand wraps around your wrist to pull you back to him.

“Keep ‘em on all ya fuckin’ want sweetheart, don’t need ya to take ‘em off for what I wanna do,” he groans as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to move yourself back on top of him straddling over his lap. 

Fair enough. 

You can feel his warm fingers twitching with anticipation as they move in between your thighs and up against your clothed sex before his digits hook themselves into the crotch of your panties and wrench them to one side roughly. The seam digs into that soft area at your upper inner thigh as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck while a hand on your hip aligns your body at the perfect spot over top of him. 

Holding the base of his cock, Simon pushes down on your hip and you don’t fight it. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, now let’s get this in,” he praises as the tip pokes through your petals and against your entrance. A harder press on your body and his cock shoves its way inside, stretching you wide as it slips in and you whine inside your closed mouth as you struggle to take him in so quickly. 

“F-fuck,” he exclaims, his body shuddering as you come all the way down until you are once again sitting on his lap only this time with all of him thrust deep inside you. “Isn’t this better? Goddammit, this is where ya fuckin’ belong princess.”

His forehead comes to rest on your own, staggered breath being siphoned between the pair of your lips before he leans up into you and crushes your mouths back together in sloppy kisses that leave you with a yearning that situates itself deep in your core. Your mouth is like candy, sweet and addictive, and each brush of your lips against his own only makes him vibrate with a need for more. Long fingers find their way back to tangle in your hair to grip it hard as he smashes his face in until your features are molded together.

Those soft, supple lips are his to ruin and he will, by fuck he will. With each fiery embrace he lays his claim upon your mouth as if he wishes to bind your faces together so he never has to do without their euphoria. Without warning his strong, thick tongue parts your lips with ease and plunges fully inside your mouth to dance and twist with your own, filling the orifice to capacity as he shoves it down the back of your throat. 

You can barely intake air with your mouth full of his tongue, but it doesn’t matter. Suffocation feels like a dream when you are stuffed so overwhelmingly from above and below. Your pussy holds him tight, tight enough that the throbbing from the blood rushing to engorge his cock feels like he’s being stroked without any movement. Each throb has a visceral reaction and you can feel the wetness gathering by the second with every beat. 

The dizzying intensity of his kisses and the pulsating of his cock are too much and leave you clenching your thighs, squeezing him in the process as you cannot help rocking your hips, but that is dangerous territory. Simon is already teetering close to the razor’s edge.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ move,” he says with a sharp hiss of breath, wrangling your hips down square against his pelvis with a heavy grip so that you cannot shift them at all. “We don’t have time to do this proper, just need to feel ya to get through this fuckin’ day and then I’ll do it right later.”

There is desperation on his lips something vicious and it can be felt in the way his embraces become more aggressive; through the haze fogging your brain you instinctively know he is holding on by a thread. Doing as he says, you do your best to keep yourself still to allow his cock to soak in you just as he wants. 

Your arms around his neck tighten as you grip on to sanity and his hands travel back up your body to cradle your face between them. There’s nothing outside of the taste of your lips, the burn from the pressure of your mouths together, the throbbing from inside your tight pussy as it coats his cock in your nectar. It all becomes an insatiable blur as his mind numbs and he forgets everything else outside of the ecstasy of you. 

The longer he’s buried in you the more your walls swell to squeeze him tighter and he does not realize what is happening. Simon forgets that he is getting too worked up, succumbing to all that pleasure that he cannot stop his body from its more primal instincts. With each passing minute the tension from the coil knotting in his abdomen is drawing closer together, threatening to snap at any second and send him coming and coming hard. 

Eyes closed, mind gone, body so warm it feels like he is on fire, the feeling of your body driving him insane, it is all too much. That coil has tightened all it can and he finally becomes aware of it just as you accidentally rock your hips ever so slightly, but it is enough that there is nothing else he can do other than accept what is about to happen. 

“Fuck,” he groans against your parted lips as he realizes that he has miscalculated just how much he can take. “Ugh…fuck, baby.”

It’s too late, this cannot be stopped and at the last second he reacts. With a sharp, loud grunt he picks your hips up and rocks his own back to pull out of you just as he pops off. The sticky, warm emission spurts out of him with force and up onto his exposed belly, catching the bottom half of his t-shirt in its intensity. His lips lock to yours in an effort to keep the noise from those deep, guttural whimpers down as he rolls his hips, milking every last out of the aching tip that he can as you grind against it.

A couple of minutes pass before his pace finally slows and comes to a stop with nothing left to give as that swift flow of exhaustion floods his body. Those bruised lips unlatch from your own as he falls against the back of the chair to sit limp as he works to regulate his breathing. Being so worked up is something he is still getting used to, losing himself like that is not a problem he had before you came along. But no one has ever made him feel as if he’d been struck by a live wire before: all excitement whenever you are around.

Just one of the hazards of being with such a vixen.

There is still a pulsing in you that causes your body to continue to ache, but as your wandering eyes land on the watch around Simon’s wrist you see that there are only a few minutes left before you need to be in training and you still have to make it across base. Carefully, you get up off of him and make your way to your pants, redressing fast as those brown eyes cling to your every move.

“See what ya fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart? I’m a goddamn mess for ya,” he sighs as he watches you fix your soaked panties back into place before pulling your pants back on, sad to see such a gorgeous sight be concealed once more. 

“Seems like we have that in common,” you smile as you finish up and lean back into him, using his thighs as support as you give him one last, lingering kiss. You’re already gonna be late, might as well make it worth it. 

Simon wants you to stay, to have you for the rest of the afternoon, but he knows that duty calls and if he doesn’t tell you to go then it’s only going to get harder to leave. “Best get outta here ‘fore I change my mind and do somethin’ stupid to get us both in fuckin’ trouble,” he says with a nod of his head. “We’ll finish this up later, I swear.”

You lean in one more time for a short peck before turning tail and quickly making your way out of the office. Simon’s gaze lingers on your form until you exit and shut the door behind you, leaving him alone to deal with the mess he’s made of himself while his raw lips are already craving yours again. 

“She is a problem,” he chuckles to himself, “a very big fuckin’ problem.”

Tag list: @llelannie

[greengoblinswifey]

Torn— Drew Starkey x Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself torn between your boyfriend drew starkey and your costar nicholas chavez. what starts as a weird dynamic with you feeling guilty turns into passion at a party, leading to a moment where all three of you come together.

warnings— explicit content. threesome, unprotected sex, anal and vaginal sex, double penetration, double creampie, oral, fingering, face fucking, polygamy, praise kink, fluff.

You had been with Drew Starkey for a while now, and your relationship had always been solid. He was steady, reliable, and made you feel secure. But everything changed when you started filming a new movie with Nicholas Chavez. From the moment you met him, there was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull that left you thinking about him more than you ever anticipated. It wasn’t just his good looks, there was something about his energy that pulled you in, leaving you feeling conflicted. You didn’t want to hurt Drew, but the connection with Nicholas was impossible to ignore.

As filming progressed, the chemistry between you and Nicholas became more intense. On-screen, your characters shared moments that felt a little too real, and off-screen, you found yourself getting lost in conversations with him. Drew noticed the shift. Instead of being jealous, though, he seemed curious, as if he could sense the spark between you and Nicholas, and, strangely, wasn’t bothered by it which went unnoticed by you. You were scared to bring up your feelings for Nicholas, afraid of what Drew might think, afraid of losing him. So, you stayed silent, trapped in a web of emotions.

Then, at a huge movie premiere party for the movie you filmed with Nicholas, everything came to a head. You had had a few drinks, and the atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Drew and Nicholas both gravitated toward you throughout the night, their eyes never straying far. You felt the tension rising as they slowly closed in. Before you knew it, they had you cornered, Nicholas standing in front of you, his intense gaze holding yours, while Drew was behind you, his body pressing against yours and grinding, radiating heat.

“You okay?” Drew murmured in your ear, his voice low, but you could hear the underlying heat in it. His hands trailed over your hips, making your breath catch.

Before you could respond, Nicholas leaned in, his lips just inches from yours, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”

Your pulse raced. The teasing note in his voice, combined with the way Drew’s body pressed against yours, had you feeling trapped in the best way possible.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” you managed to whisper, though the way you trembled gave you away.

Nicholas smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

Drew’s grip on your waist tightened. “You can be honest, you know,” he added, his voice almost a growl. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Your mind was spinning. The music, the heat of their bodies, the weight of their attention, it was overwhelming. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you admitted, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t want to hurt either of you.”

Drew chuckled softly. “Who said I’m hurt?” His lips grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about this too.”

Nicholas’ fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve been stuck between us for a while, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s okay, you don’t have to choose.”

Drunk on both alcohol and the intensity of the moment, you, Drew, and Nicholas ended up in your mansion together. The air was thick with unspoken desire, and everything felt like it had been leading to this moment.

Nicholas was the first to act, pulling you into a heated kiss while Drew watched, his eyes dark with hunger. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. Drew’s eyes flickered between you and Nicholas, revealing that the connection you felt wasn’t just your imagination, it was real for all three of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you breathed, your heart pounding as their hands explored your body.

Drew pressed a kiss to your neck, his voice raspy. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve both been wanting this.”

Nicholas smirked as his hands slipped under your dress, his touch sending electricity through your veins. “I think she knows now.” As their hands roamed over your body, you knew there was no going back.

“I want you,” Nicholas whispered against your skin as Drew's lips trailed down your collarbone. “Both of us do.”

Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as he kissed a path down your shoulder. “You’re ours,” he growled, and the intensity of their words sent your body into overdrive. He shoved you on the bed, his roughness matching with the tension in the air and he did something unexpected. Drew’s hands cupped Nicholas’ cheeks and their lips met in a passionate kiss filled with need that left you throbbing. You never expected this from either of them and it had you wanting more.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” Drew said, pulling away.

They stared longingly at each other before turning their attention back to you. “Tonight’s about all of us baby, we’re gonna make you feel so good,” Nicholas smirked.

He removed your dress and your lacy undergarments, leaving you bare as Drew kissed you all over, eventually settling on your neck and finding that sweet spot that made you squirm.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” Drew asked, catching Nicholas taking in your naked figure.

“So fucking beautiful, she’s a masterpiece,” he replied.

They removed each other’s clothes, their eyes never leaving each other and you wondered when the dam would break between them. After, their attention was back on you with Nicholas spreading your legs on the bed and Drew hovering over your face, his cock hard and leaking with pre cum.

“I’m gonna make you feel good and you’re gonna make him feel good, is that a good deal baby?” Nicholas inquired. You nodded desperately, the dynamic between you leaving you aching.

Your mouth fell open and Drew took the opportunity to slide his cock inside as Nicholas’ tongue ravaged your pussy. You could barely focus on the cock fucking your mouth as Nicholas sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue, sending shivers all throughout your body. His tongue focused on your clit as he slipped a finger in your sopping cunt, curling it and immediately finding your g spot. You moaned around Drew’s cock, swirling your tongue and taking him as deep in your throat as you could without gagging.

“Fuck,” Drew moaned, “you fucking like that pretty girl? You like having another man’s mouth on your pussy and my big cock in your mouth?”

You tried answering, forgetting he was practically in your throat and he let out a chuckle, thrusting his hips at a steady pace. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth baby.”

Your legs began to shake as you could feel your orgasm approaching. Nicholas slipped a second finger and he engulfed his mouth on your clit, you felt like you were about to explode at any moment.

“I can feel how close you are baby, cum for me, cum for us,” Nicholas demanded, a dark glint in his eye as you looked down. Hearing the demand that you were to cum for the two men that you were insanely attracted to sent you over the edge, you moaned around Drew’s cock and his cum immediately spurted down your throat as your orgasm washed over you all over Nicholas’ mouth. Their moans filled the room before yours finally subsided as Nicholas’ tongue left your pussy.

“Wanna taste our girl?” he asked Drew. He nodded and with a smirk, Nicholas pulled him in, their lips connecting in a sloppy kiss and their tongues fighting for dominance. The scene before you was so erotic, all that was in your head was to have them do that as they were deep inside your holes. You needed them both.

“That’s so fucking hot,” you panted. Your pussy wet from the ordeal, “and now I need you both inside me, we can take it slow and romantic another time, I just want you both to fill me up.”

Nicholas’ cock was rock hard hearing your plea. Though he wanted to cum in your mouth, doing it inside you for the first time seemed more fitting and Drew agreed.

“You can get her pussy tonight, it’s yours now too, isn’t that right baby?” Drew asked, looking at you, his hands slowly pumping his thick cock.

“Yes sir,” you giggled, his words making you swoon.

Drew positioned himself under you, your body weight lying on top of him as his cock was pressed against your puckered hole. Nicholas stood in front of you slapping his heavy cock on your clit making you moan his name. He spat on Drew’s cock to lubricate it so he could enter your ass easier though this was not your first rodeo with Drew. He had a few kinks, something that Nicholas would soon discover.

They both positioned themselves at your entrances, you were about to be penetrated by two greek gods—at the same time.

“You ready baby?” Drew asked.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Nicholas followed up after.

“Shut up and fuck me, both of you,” you begged and your answer was enough.

Simultaneously, their cocks slowly penetrated you, the feeling of being full getting closer and closer.

“Fuck,” you all moaned in unison, the feeling was heaven. You were heaven.

“This ass is so fucking tight,” Drew moaned, steadily rutting into you.

“So is her pussy, fucking wet too,” Nicholas said, his hands moving to fondle your breasts.

The pressure of being filled on both ends left you breathless, every inch of your body trembling from the overwhelming intensity. Nicholas was deep in your wet pussy, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rocked against you, his movements powerful and unrelenting. Under you, Drew’s deep thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you closer to the brink.

“You’re taking us so well,” Nicholas murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips brushed against your ear.

Drew groaned from behind you, his hand trailing up your back as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Feels too good, doesn’t it? We’re not gonna stop until you can’t take anymore.”

You could feel both of them stretching you, their rhythm perfectly in sync, making you feel impossibly full. Every time Drew pushed in deeper from behind, Nicholas would thrust forward, their bodies meeting yours in perfect harmony. Your breath hitched with every movement, a moan escaping your lips as the sensation built.

“God, I can feel you squeezing us both,” Nicholas grunted, his hand sliding up your side, gripping you harder. “You like being ours, don’t you?”

Your fingers dug into Nicholas’s back as you tried to ground yourself, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely surrounded, their bodies pressing into yours, both of them taking you at once. The fullness was almost too much, but in the best way, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you.

Drew’s voice rumbled behind you, low and full of need. “Just let go, baby. We’ve got you.”

Immediately, you convulsed underneath them, a primal moan in response to their filthy words and having their cocks buried deep inside you, you felt like you were on top of the world, having your vision blur and stars filling your head as the feeling of ecstasy overtook you.

After everything built up to a crescendo, your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations that swept through you. Your heart was still racing, breath shallow, as you lay back on Drew, feeling utterly spent. The warmth of Drew and Nicholas surrounding you only heightened the lingering aftershocks that pulsed through your limbs.

You felt so full, emotionally, physically, and mentally—like the weight of everything that had been brewing between the three of you had finally crashed over, leaving nothing but satisfaction in its wake. Your body ached in the best way, as though you’d been completely claimed by them, both in the way they touched you and the way they looked at you.

As they both reached their peak, it felt like the tension that had once existed between Drew and Nicholas dissolved completely, replaced with a sense of unity neither of them had anticipated. There was no longer a struggle over who you belonged to, it was a quiet, unspoken understanding that you were theirs, together, and they could share you in ways that felt right for all of you.

The warmth of their release spread inside your pussy and your ass, leaving you feeling impossibly full, every inch of you claimed in the most intimate way. Drew’s hand intertwined with Nicholas’ as they both caught their breath, chests rising.

The soft, lingering kisses that Nicholas pressed against your shoulder, combined with the feel of Drew’s fingers gently stroking your side, made you melt even further into the moment. It wasn’t just the physical release, it was the unspoken bond that had formed between the three of you, deeper than anything you’d experienced before.

Drew leaned in to kiss Nicholas, the once unexpected passion now flowing naturally between them. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your hand instinctively running down Nicholas' back, feeling the warmth of his skin as their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss. The heat of their connection sent a shiver through you, making the afterglow even more intoxicating.

Nicholas broke the kiss, breathless, turning to meet your gaze, his eyes softening. “I never knew it could be like this,” he whispered, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. Drew followed, brushing a hand along your cheek as he nodded in agreement.

“We're all together now,” Drew murmured, his voice a quiet promise, before the three of you shifted, curling up together. The warmth of their bodies pressed against yours as they cuddled you between them, the moment filled with intimacy, not just passion.

Nicholas gently rubbed your shoulder as Drew wiped a cool cloth over your skin, cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. “You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel the weight of their attention, not just on your body but on the connection you all shared.

When they finished cleaning you, they turned to each other. Drew smirked, grabbing the cloth and running it teasingly over Nicholas’ chest. “Your turn,” he grinned, the air between them still charged but with a sweetness that hadn’t been there before.

Nicholas laughed, leaning into Drew’s touch. "Alright, alright,” he playfully relented, allowing Drew to clean him up before returning the favor.

Afterward, they both wrapped their arms around you again, the three of you sinking into the bed, completely content. You felt the lingering warmth of their presence, not just in your body but in the calm, comfortable silence that followed.

“We’re not letting you go,” Drew whispered, his hand stroking your hair gently.

Nicholas pressed another soft kiss to your neck, “Not now, not ever.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh as your mind swam in the aftermath, your body feeling weightless and warm, cocooned in their presence. Full, cherished, completely theirs—and nothing else mattered.

[dark-moonlust]

Cοckwarming Minοtaur PART 1: Office

I’m turning this imagine into a series!!!!

Pairing: Minotaur x f!human reader

Summary: your Minotaur boyfriend Balen is madly in love with you. And he has a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He always finds excuses to have you sit on his lap. Even when you are at work.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, semi-public workplace smut, Minotaur huge🍆, cοckwarming, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is a series and you can find more here and on Patreon.

You loved your Minotaur boyfriend, Balen.

The two of you had met three years ago at a workplace friendly to both monsters and humans. Balen was your superior, and you had just started working as his secretary. From the very first meeting, you had felt something deep and strong connecting him to you. You were attracted to him, incredibly aroused and in need of him. Balen had explained that it was the mating bond, a sacred bond that tied his heart to yours. Since then, you’d decided to give your relationship a chance and be together.

Your relationship was based on mutual trust and security, a connection deeper and stronger than you’d ever experienced.

Fast forward to the present, you still loved him like crazy, your relationship never better.

Balen was a fascinating presence in your life. Despite his towering and unusual appearance, your Minotaur was tender and sweet. You saw past his different appearance and found something deep and poignant with him. He cared for you better than any human boyfriend would — and fucked you with a passion that left you breathless.

Balen was madly in love with you. And he had a wicked little obsession with cockwarming. He was obsessed with the feel of you, the security of holding you in his arms while his cock pulsed inside you. And he always found excuses to have you sit on his lap, his cock thrust up your depths as he resumed his day as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

During shopping? During work? During lunch, dinner or any time of the day. Yes to all. Balen somehow made it work.

At work, he was particularly demanding when cockwarming him. Coworkers might enter his office, but he kept you there, your neat dress hiding your flushed face and betraying your state. Sometimes he played with your clit and made you cum, other times, he just stayed inside you and made work calls and reviewed business files. And when he finally pulled out of you, it was always with the promise to find a way to be close to you later.

That morning, you were in your office working on a presentation for an important project. You’d finished it with ease and were eager to share your ideas with your boss and colleagues. As you sat at your desk, typing away at your computer, the phone rang.

Called ID: Mr. Balen - Office.

You had an idea of what this call was about.

“Hello,” you answered casually.

“Come to my office,” your boyfriend said, his voice deep and throaty. “I need to check the progress of your presentation.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You complied, standing up and making your way to his spacious office. You knocked and entered discretely.

And there he was.

Seated at his magnificent mahogany desk, the sheer size of him dwarfed the surrounding furniture. Balen’s hulking form filled the room, his presence overwhelming. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, the clothing tailored to fit his immense size. He was at least three times bigger than you, his body chiseled with muscles and silky fur. His head was crowned with a pair of curved horns, his face a captivating combination of beast and man. Upon seeing you, his dark eyes lit up and he let out a deep rumble, vibrating from his chest.

“Come here,” he said, his voice casual but demanding.

“I’ve brought my presentation,” you said but as soon as you were inches from him, he pulled you to him, his hands lifting your dress and guiding you to sit on his lap.

“Balen,” you whined as he quickly tugged away your panties, a finger finding its way inside you. You were drenched, wet from the earlier fuck he’d given you during the car ride to work. You clutched his broad shoulders, burying your face in his chest and biting your lips as that wickedly perfect digit stretched your walls, preparing you for his cock.

Soon, you felt him shift, unzipping his trousers and freezing his monstrous cock. Your Minotaur sported a dick unlike any other. It was long and curved, thick and surrounded by protruding veins. The head was broad and leaking pre-cum, his balls round and swollen, the poor babies squeezed between his legs.

Strong hands cupped your ass, positioning you over his raging girth. The cockhead nudged your entrance, coaxing your pussy lips apart and slowly invading your depths. With a slow, deliberate upward thrust, he buried himself inside you, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling from his chest. Your belly bulged from the sheer girth of him inside you. You moaned lewdly but quickly muffled your cries by biting his shoulder. He loved it when you did that.

“So good for me. Just for a little bit, baby, okay?” he murmured, his hands resting possessively on your hips. “I need this.”

You nodded, trying to control your breathing as you adjusted to the invasion and stretch. Balen resumed his work, one large hand rubbing your ass from under your dress while the other resumed his work, moving expertly over his keyboard as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He even studied your presentation while you struggled to focus with the constant feel of his cock stretching your pussy.

“Excellent work with your presentation,” he praised, “you covered every important point.”

“Th…thank you,” you murmured, running your fingers through the exposed fur at his neck.

You wiggled a little, desperate for release and rubbed your clit against him. His hand on your ass pressed you closer against him, thrusting just barely inside you. He did it again and again, rewarding you for taking his dick so well. A few minutes later, the friction against your clit was perfect and you came, your walls contracting hard around his cock. You bit his shoulder to muffle your cries and Balen followed, releasing pump after pump of his load inside you. He was surprisingly quiet and reserved, but you knew his passion was great; his heartbeat was erratic.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against you.

It was at that moment, that a coworker knocked on the door. You clutched your boyfriend, your heart racing. Balen remained calm, his hands steady as he continued to work and bid the coworker to enter. The coworker, a male werewolf, entered, used to the sight of you hugging your boyfriend and what was happening beneath your neat clothing. Everyone in the office knew of your relationship and the demands of your minotaur boyfriend. Balen had made it so everyone respected you no matter what.

Balen and the werewolf discussed business as usual, while your face flushed with the effort of maintaining composure. Balen’s cock was throbbing inside you, his seed overflowing even if he was buried balls deep inside you. Once the coworker left, Balen kissed you, his tongue brushing against your lips before thrusting into your mouth. He tasted every crevice of your mouth and then drew back, a hint of a grin on his bull face.

“You did well,” he drawled, his voice thick with pride.

“Don’t I always?” you teased sweetly.

“Always.” He pressed you closed against him, his cock kissing so deep inside you that you groaned. “I love you mate. Love your beautiful smile, your lovely heart and your pretty little pussy.”

You smiled. “I love you, too, my horny minotaur.”

“Hmmm…” he growled. “You are my everything, little mate and it seems I can’t function without you.”

“Balen…” you trailed off, winching as more of his seed tricked down your thighs. “We made a mess. Shouldn’t we—”

“It’s alright, my love,” he said. “There are clothes in the cabinet. I always keep spares for both.”

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[donatellawritings]

would rafe ever actually hurt the reader or does he always say empty promises when he’s upset? would you write that? love your work xx

ugh so basically, this is the first and only time that rafe and sweetheart actually break up :(

there was only one instance where rafe had hurt you — and it was one of, if not, the only regret that will continue to haunt him, whenever you shed even a single tear. it was pretty early on in your relationship, he was still struggling to navigate how to handle someone as pure as you, while you were still finding your footing when it came to having such a volatile lover in rafe cameron. you’d been warned by your cousin, kiara — she was firm in maintaining her stance on being against you and rafe being in a relationship … you were her family, you had a heart of genuine gold, while rafe only displayed the facade of being a blood and money hungry man with incessant skeletons in his closet.

“don’t fuckin’ walk away from me, when i’m talkin’ to you,” rafe shouted, hot on your trail as you tearfully made your way into your shared bedroom. mascara-stained tears painted your once blushed cheeks with dark and watery streaks, your lip poked out in a wobbly pout as you turned to face your angered boyfriend, “of course, the baby is fuckin’ crying — i should be the one that’s fuckin’ crying after the way you walked around like a dumb slut,” he scoffed, completely unfazed by your genuine tears of sorrowful frustration. now focusing your gaze at your kitten-heel clad feet, your shoulders slumped as a choked out sob sipped from between your swollen lips.

rafe was completely coked-out, blaming his over-indulgence on the fact that it had been months since he’d been able to enjoy a night out. his usually cold, yet enticing bright blue glaze was taken over by blown pupils and bloodshot eyes that stared at you with nothing, but disdain, “y’fuckin’ look at me when i’m talking to you,” he spoke lowly, a squeaky yelp coming out of you as he gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to make direct eye contact with him. your hand gently held onto his wrist, fat tears cascading down your waterline as rafe painfully pinched your cheeks together, “i want you to get the fuck out of my house — y’wanna fuckin’ talk to other guys while m’making us money? then fucking leave,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing your face away as you let out a throaty cry.

that was far from the case — rafe had simply caught you making conversation with some random kook who’d failed to take the hint that not only you were uninterested, but you were rafe’s girl. but, rafe was too far gone to see anything aside from what his intoxicated mind wrongfully conjured up.

with a heaving chest, you let out a cry as you reached to grab rafe’s arm, “no, papi, i don’t want to go — please ju-just listen to me,” the second your hand touched rafe’s flexed arm, your head whipped to the side as rafe’s ring-clad hand slapped you right across your pretty face. your cheek pulsed with an aching sting as you blinked, your swollen lips parted in disbelief.

the sharp sound of rafe’s hand connecting with your face instantly caused your boyfriend to sober up, just enough for his eyes to widen in realization as he immediately approached you, “fuck, baby i didn’t mean to fuckin’—” he began, reaching an arm out to pull you into his chest, his heart sinking to his stomach as you backed away from him, bone-chilling cries leaving your mouth as you made a run for the bedroom door. “no-no, mama, please just fuckin’ listen!” he shouted, his arms successfully wrapping around you from behind as he pulled you flush against his tense chest.

“i fucking hate you, let me go!” you screamed, kicking your heeled feet as rafe tightened his hold on you, your eyes burning with reddening tears as you let out a choked sob. your cheek still pulsed as you began to sink to the floor, rafe lowering himself with his arms secured around you as you weakly clawed at his strained forearms, “please, i just want to go home,” you squeaked out, rafe’s eyes glazing over — this was supposed to be your home. you’d given up on kicking at the floor and scratching rafe’s arms, your heaving cries making you a bit sleepy as rafe wordlessly held you against him, waiting until you were calm, before he’d speak again.

tears silently rolled down rafe’s structured face as he hopelessly clung to you. you had every right to hate him and he accepted that, but the possibility of you leaving him for good was really starting to bite at him. with a shaky sigh, rafe leaned his forehead against your shoulder, “baby, pl-please let’s just, let’s just go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice wobbly as he swallowed down a pathetic cry. you remained quiet as you stared at the hardwood floor that had been scuffed by your heels, your doe eyes puffy and red from all of the crying you’d done, your eyelids heavy. “m’so fuckin’ sorry,” rafe cried, feverishly pressing his lips into the back of your shoulder, over and over again, his wet eyelashes now prominent against your exposed skin.

you were completely numb, once rafe slowly rose to his feet, keeping you in his arms as he carefully removed your clothes, replacing them with one of his t-shirts, tears rolling down his face as you remained limp, your eyes blank of any recognizable emotion as you refused to look directly into his eyes. you didn’t even move when rafe softly cradled the back of your head, pressing a kiss into your forehead as you simply blinked, your wispy lashes clumped together from your warm tears. carefully leading you to your shared bed, rafe remained fully clothed in his button-up and slacks, silently thankful that you were able to fall asleep with your bruised cheek finding comfort against his cheek. he couldn’t find it in himself to sleep, once he was completely sober and of a sound mind, rafe knew that he’d completely fucked up.

this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with you. he was supposed to be different, he was supposed to be a man of dignity, yet here he was slipping into his old ways.

so, rafe was awake when you finally woke up, his heart beating just a bit quicker as you raised your head from his chest, your cheekbone a light reddish-purple shade. it wasn’t until your exhausted and strained eyes met his, that rafe wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg you for your forgiveness. but, he knew he’d be selfish to expect you to forgive him, only mere hours since he’d put his hands on you. biting back tears, rafe stood from the bed, “i want to take you somewhere, baby — y’don’t have to change your clothes, just come with me to the car, yeah?” rafe held out his hand, a slight warmth fluttering in his chest as you lightly held onto his hand with a small nod.

౨ৎ

rafe was thankful that you’d fallen asleep, about five minutes into the drive. he’d been wracking over his mistake over and over again, to the point where he couldn’t even bring himself to turn the car around and drive back home with you. slowly bringing the car to a stop, rafe gently parked the car, running a hand over his shaven face with a low and shaky sigh. his tired eyes looked over your peaceful state, your puffy lips slight parted as you fell into a deep sleep. rafe’s heart ached as he gently laid a hand on your thigh, lightly nudging you out of your sleep, a sad and knowing smile tugging on his lips as you opened your eyes.

“rafe, why are we here?” you asked, your voice raspy and hoarse as your eyes glazed.

rafe had driven you home.

unbuckling his seatbelt, rafe shifted to give you his full attention, his hand bringing yours to his lips as you looked at him with tearful eyes, “i want you to listen to me, a’ight? i need to be a better man for you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before swallowing thickly as you held in a cry, “m’gonna get my shit together, princess—” he continued, watching as you furiously shook your head. you were stubborn, but this was the one time where he needed you to listen to him.

“no, i wanna be with you — i don’t hate you, i—” you panicked, tears streaming down your face as you softly pulled your hand away from rafe’s, using both of your small hands to cover your face.

“m’gonna come and get you when i get better, okay mama? but right now, you need to go home, a’ight?” he sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the steering wheel. if he even looked at you for a second, he knew that he’d be back on the road, with you in the passenger seat, riding off into the sunset.

sniffling back a sob, you glanced at your boyfriend through cloudy eyes, “you’re breaking my heart, papi,” you cried, your puffy lips now dry as you licked over them. you wanted so bad to crawl into his lap and fall asleep, forget this all happened. unfortunately, rafe had already made up his mind.

“baby, please go home, this isn’t easy for me,” rafe spoke sternly, maintaining his gaze on the steering wheel, tears burning at his waterline as you nodded weakly, before stepping out of the car, gently closing the passenger door as you walked towards your house.

neither you nor rafe had the strength to look at each other as you made your way into your house, leaving rafe a tearful mess as he aimlessly made his way back on the road. every few minutes, he’d glance at the passenger seat, hoping that you’d magically appear next to him and be your usually smiley self, but he knew that couldn’t happen, not for a while.

rafe meant it when he said that he’d come get you, once he got better and he looked to make good on that promise. you were his sweet girl and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself, if he managed to lose you for good. he just hoped that you’d still love him, when he returned.

[bookwormjust]

Craving physical touch from your mate (established relationship with Azriel)

The day had been long, and though you were surrounded by people, laughter, and conversation, there was an ache inside you that no amount of company could soothe. It was a deep, gnawing need that only one person could fill. You missed Azriel. Not just his presence, but his touch—the way his arms could wrap around you, his shadows curling in and creating a safe cocoon of warmth and security.

You found yourself pacing the house, your fingers grazing over the soft fabric of the sofa, the cold glass of the windows, as if searching for something, for *him.* He wasn’t far—you knew he was in Velaris, but busy with some mission or meeting. Still, the bond you shared hummed with a soft, steady pulse, always present, always there. But tonight, it wasn’t enough.

You craved him—his warmth, his touch, the way he held you like nothing in the world mattered except the two of you.

Unable to take it anymore, you reached out through the bond, sending a soft but desperate pulse of longing. You didn’t want to interrupt him, but you needed him, even if it was just through the connection of your minds.

Almost immediately, you felt his presence flicker to life in your mind, the familiar warmth of his shadows curling around your thoughts. *What’s wrong, love?* His voice was low, a soft whisper of concern threading through the bond. He had sensed the depth of your need before you could even form the words.

*I need you, Az,* you whispered through the bond, your voice thick with emotion. *I need to feel you. I don’t know why, but I just… I need to be held by you right now.*

You felt the shift in his emotions—an immediate response, protective and loving, as if your need ignited something in him. *I’m on my way,* he said, no hesitation in his voice.

You knew he would drop everything to come to you. Azriel wasn’t one to ignore the bond, especially when you called to him like this, your heart aching for him. You smiled softly, already feeling the warmth of his promise wash over you. But even so, you still felt the emptiness of his absence in the present moment.

*I’m almost there, love. Just hold on for me.*

The minutes that passed felt like an eternity, but you focused on the connection between you two, the bond that pulsed with the love and protection he always offered. And then, just when the ache in your chest was becoming unbearable, you heard the soft sound of wings in the distance.

You rushed to the door, flinging it open just as Azriel landed softly on the ground, his dark wings stretching wide before folding behind him. His hazel eyes locked onto yours, filled with concern and understanding.

“Azriel,” you whispered, the relief in your voice so palpable it almost broke you.

Without another word, he crossed the threshold, sweeping you into his arms in one swift motion. His embrace was warm, strong, and all-encompassing. His shadows danced around you both, cocooning you in their gentle caress as his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you as close as possible.

You melted into him, your face pressed against his chest, inhaling the familiar, calming scent of him. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other held you securely against him, as though he was trying to mold you to his very being.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating through his chest, the sound as soothing as the feeling of his arms around you. “I’m here.”

Tears pricked your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sense of safety and comfort that always came with being in Azriel’s embrace. His wings shifted, curling slightly around you, offering you even more warmth and protection.

“I missed you,” you whispered against his chest, your voice barely audible. “I just needed you so badly.”

“I know, love,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with understanding. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he held you tighter. “I felt it.”

His shadows curled around you like a second pair of arms, soothing the parts of you even his touch couldn’t reach. And as you stood there, wrapped up in him, the ache in your heart began to ease. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, locked in this quiet, tender moment.

“I’m not letting go,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Not until you feel better.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, your arms tightening around his waist as if to confirm you didn’t want him to ever let go. In his embrace, you felt whole again—his presence the balm to every unspoken hurt, every ache you couldn’t put into words.

For now, this was all you needed. Azriel. His touch, his warmth, and the silent promise that he would always be there when you needed him most.

[velvette-creations]

Sparks Fly

Agatha All Along: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 1.2k 

Prompt: “If you’re gonna be the death of me, that’s how I want to go” -Collar Full by Panic at the Disco for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: PWP. oral, strap-on, spanking, hair pulling, biting, magic, power siphoning, manipulation, mommy kink, role-playing

Summary: Agatha reminds you who you belong to

Agatha’s sharp teeth sank into the delicate peach flesh of your neck; pain blossomed through your body, sending a pulsing deep in your belly. Flames licked inside your stomach as her fingers curled into your hips. Your flesh surrendered to her harsh bite, bruising in the wake. It made your head spin as a shiver ran through you.

“You’re in so much trouble, baby doll,” she purred in your ear before gripping a fistful of hair.

You didn’t mind a little trouble, truth be told. It always ended well for you.

“Sorry, Mommy, please be gentle,” you whimpered, playing up the role.

“Oh ho ho, you know I won’t be,” she growled before ripping your shirt over your head.

Her fingers tore at your clothing like greedy claws. Talons shredding your bra, your underwear, your jeans until you stood trembling naked before her. Her hungry eyes raked over your bare skin as you squirmed over her scrutinizing gaze. It had only been a bit of harmless flirting to secure yourself a free drink, but you knew it would get under her skin. You felt ignored lately and this was your way of getting her attention. Consequences be damned.

Her boots clicked against the floor as she circled you, her fashionable black cape billowing around her and her dark hair cascading down her shoulders. She was all sleek and sultry in head-to-toe black, the fabric hugging her slender, svelte flame, reminding you of a black panther ready to devour its prey. You were ready to drop to your knees before her or have her bend you over and do whatever she wanted. She snapped her fingers and pointed to her feet, making you quickly scramble to your knees. The sparks of purple emanating from her fingertips were not lost on you.

Her hand gently cupped your chin as she tilted your gaze toward hers. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to tonight, baby doll.” You couldn’t wait.

You spent a good ten minutes bent over her lap, squirming as the palm of her hand connected firmly with your upturned, naked rear. Each slap left a searing reminder of her mark. You’re mine, you’re mine. You could hear her voice echoing in your head. Her thigh-high leather boots dug and nipped at the soft skin of your stomach as you writhed. Your flesh felt abused and tenderized adequately by the time she was finished, tears clinging to the corners of your eyes and wetting your lashes. Yet still, your clit throbbed in anticipation.

One of Agatha’s fingers caressed down your wet slit, and you felt a jolt from her sparks roll through you. You let out a long whine, digging your hands into the couch cushions as you arched back into her touch.

“Please, Mommy, please,” you begged.

Her hand swatted the tender flesh of your thigh.

“Tell me why, baby doll,” she hummed as her fingers returned to their gentle caress of your aching pussy.

“I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Please just make me feel good. I’m yours, all yours!” you sobbed, voice desperate with need.

Her dark chuckle rang through the room as she pinched the sore skin of your bare ass. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Mommy!” you wailed, the throbbing between your thighs so intense that it made your stomach clench.

Her finger pressed to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. “Only Mommy knows how to satisfy you, doesn’t she?” Agatha cooed.

“Yes, Mommy,” you sniffled, tears running down your cheeks, but you were thankful for the relief.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby doll. I want to see those lovely tears as you eat Mommy out, then I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yes, Mommy.” You slowly pushed your body up, blood flowing through your limbs once again before straddling her lap. The fabric of her bodysuit scraped against your well-spanked backside as you unhooked the silky collar around her neck that held it in place before sliding it down her body. She arched her back and lifted her hips until you peeled it down midthigh. You tugged the bottoms free from her boots before finally being able to peel the silky material entirely free. The black cape framed her pale, slender, naked body, and your mouth watered at the sight. You pressed your lips to her taut stomach, feeling her flesh warm under your mouth. The sharp tug on your hair made you pull away.

“I believe you have a task at hand, baby doll. Pay attention,” Agatha scolded, a wry grin on her face.

You gave her a sheepish look before pressing your face between her thighs, sliding your tongue over her sweet pussy. The pink tip delved between her silken folds, swirling the taste of her around your mouth. You continued to tease her, enjoying her soft moans before you sought out her clit. The engorged bud pulsed against your lips as you wrapped them around it. You suckled gently, listening to her moans bleed into a more guttural sound. Your tongue traced tantalizing around her clit, feeling her tremble under your gesticulations.

“Oh, baby doll…I’m gonna…” she gasped, rocking against your mouth before spilling sweetly over your tongue.

You gently lapped the aftermath clean before resting your head on Agatha’s thigh. She stroked your hair, a loving look in her eyes. “You were wonderful, baby doll. Time for a reward.”

If you had a tail, it would have been wagging, but instead, you scurried off like an overexcited puppy to retrieve the purple strap and harness from the bottom drawer of the TV stand. Agatha chuckled, the black cloak partially shielding her naked body as she stood, taking the toy from you. Once it was secured in place, she pulled you close, the tip of her cock teasing you as her lips melted against your mouth. A deep rumbling filled your belly, spilling warmth—hot, crackling magic in the air. Chemistry sparking.

You were floating, legs wrapped around Agatha’s waist as she buried herself deep inside you. Your hair sprawled around you, fingers flexing through the empty air before grabbing hold of Agatha.

“Oh,” you moaned, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re so beautiful, baby doll. Mommy’s special girl,” Agatha murmured, rolling her hips as you clung to her.

Indescribable pleasure rolled through you, feeling sparks flicker up and down your spine. Her cape billowed in the air as the two of you swirled, locked tightly together. Entraped in delightful rapture. Your head lolled back as she hit the particular spot inside of you, sending waves crashing through you as you came.

“That’s my good girl,” Agatha cooed, her warm hands sprawling over every inch of your bare skin until you began feeling drained like every ounce of energy had been zapped.

Your head rolled onto her shoulder as she lowered you both back to the ground, keeping you in her arms as your legs almost gave out. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

She took you upstairs, tucking you beneath the soft sheets before loosening her cape and letting it fall to the floor before joining you. You tucked your head under her chin as her fingers gently danced over your naked skin.

“Thank you for the jolt, baby doll,” she whispered, purple flashing in her eyes.

“You’re welcome. Anytime you need it, Mommy,” you purred, not minding that she siphoned your power every now and then.

“I’m afraid I might be the death of you,” she chuckled.

You simply smiled, keeping your thoughts to yourself. If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I want to go.

[prettyobsessed]

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 🪐༘Temptation Whispers Home 🍵‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⁺₊ / pairings: Xavier / fem!reader ✩ / genre: smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] ₊˚ / tags: nsfw, smut with plot, story plot smut, masturbation, mutual attraction, grinding, soft sex, slighty rough sex, cowgirl position, lots of teasing, fingering, lots of kisses, unprotected sex, mouth job, hand job, kissing, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, neck kink, nipple kink smut, spanking, facial cumshot, mature sexual content ☾ / word count: 6.6k

✧summary✧ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ Amidst the allure of Xavier's presence and the intoxicating atmosphere, the narrator grapples with their desire for intimacy and the uncertainty that shrouds their relationship. The scene pulses with tension and longing as they navigate the complexities of unspoken desires and emotional boundaries, hinting at a deeper connection waiting to be explored. ﹌﹌﹌

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me."

☄. *. ⋆ Standing before my wardrobe, indecision settled upon my shoulders like an unwelcome guest. Meeting Tara, my best friend, shouldn't have been so complicated, yet there I was, deliberating over my outfit for nearly half an hour.

The events of last Saturday lingered in my thoughts, seemingly crept up on me—the night Xavier and I went to the club and things got… dangerously flirty.

Facing the mirror, I examined myself wearing my pastel blue thong, a reminder of Xavier lingering in my mind. "Am I wearing this intentionally with him in mind?" I paused, questioning my motives. "Stop. I’m not even meeting him today. Why bother?" I murmured to myself, shaking off the distraction, but not wanting to change out of the thong.

I was jolted back to reality when my phone notification bell rang. Glancing up at the screen, I noticed today’s date: Monday, 5th February. 2:28pm. With a resigned sigh, I selected a grey mini skirt paired with a white off-shoulder top, its thin fabric ideal for the anticipated hot day. Gathering my hair into a bun, I applied a spritz of Bare Vanilla to my neck and wrists, relishing in the comforting scent of my current favourite fragrance. Slipping into my trusty black boots and grabbing my bag, I hurried out the door, ensuring I hadn’t left anything behind and securing the automated lock. Venturing further from my apartment, a nagging thought crept into my mind. "Did I forget something?" But with Tara waiting, I pushed the thought aside and continued on my way.

"Today was a blast! Thanks for showing me around,” Tara exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Let’s go out again next week! See ya!” she chirped, waving energetically as she walked away. "Bye, Tara!” I called out with a playful pout. After bidding her farewell, I set off on my journey home, only to be caught off guard by an unexpected downpour. In an instant, I was soaked through from head to toe.

Frantically rummaging through my bag, I realised my oversight. "Damn it, I forgot my umbrella," I muttered, feeling water seep into every crevice. Drenched from head to toe, I cursed my forgetfulness as the heavy rain continued to pour down. I sprinted towards my apartment, each step weighed down by the rain-soaked clothes clinging from my hair to my body. Finally reaching my doorstep, I encountered another setback. Attempting to use my keycard, the electronic lock flashed an ominous "System error. System error." 

Recalling the maintenance warning, I hadn't anticipated it causing such immediate inconvenience. Frustration bubbled up within me as I futilely tried my security passcode, only to be met with the same error message. Feeling the urgency, I contacted the security of the building regarding the issue. They reassured that the issue would be resolved with a reboot in approximately 2 hours. 

Two hours. What am I going to do? I can't even go anywhere in this heavy downpour.

Just as despair threatened to overwhelm me, I heard the click of a door unlocking behind me. Turning, I saw Xavier, my neighbor and hunting partner, emerging from his apartment. He was clad in a cozy knit sweater, exuding warmth and an irresistible charm. "Ehem. Oh hi, Xavier," I greeted him, attempting to conceal my discomfort, yet pleasantly surprised and blushing at his appearance.

Xavier's expression shifted from surprise to concern as he observed my sodden appearance. Attempting to discreetly cover myself, the sheer fabric of my wet clothes left little to the imagination. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, moving closer and sensing my distress. With a sheepish smile, I explained the situation, gesturing helplessly at the malfunctioning lock and the relentless rain outside. Xavier's tense expression softened, replaced by empathy. "Ohh… hmm, would you like to come inside first?," Xavier offered, his voice warm with concern. "You need to dry off and warm up. I'll make us some tea."

Gratefully accepting his offer, I stepped into his cozy apartment with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. 

The warmth of the place enveloped me, dispelling the coldness of the rain-soaked evening. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, a mixture of concern and something more primal flickering in his eyes as he took in my drenched attire. His breath deepened, and he swallowed nervously. Quickly averting his eyes, his cheeks flushed slightly. I couldn't help but notice his expression. Was it because of that night? The memory of our encounter hung between us, adding an awkward tension to the air.

Sorry about the inconvenience," I mumbled, attempting to hide my soaked top with my hands, growing increasingly self-conscious. Xavier shook his head, offering a reassuring smile while guiding me further inside. "No need to apologise. I wouldn't want you catching a cold. Let me grab you a towel and some dry clothes," he said as his hand brushed mine for a split second before disappearing into another room.

His touch, feather-light against mine, sent a sudden chill coursing through me in response to this familiar connection. As I waited, I couldn't help but replay the memory of my (not so) drunken encounter with Xavier that night. The thought sent a shiver racing down my spine, kindling a slow, simmering heat within. When Xavier returned with a towel and a set of dry clothes, I accepted them gratefully, retreating to the bathroom to change. As I entered, I carefully place the dry clothes on the countertop.

Glancing into the mirror, I was startled to find myself drenched by the rain, the droplets clinging to my skin like shimmering diamonds. As I reached up to adjust my hair, I noticed the transparency of my top, revealing more than I intended. My heart raced as I realised the shape of my breasts was clearly outlined, a blush creeping up my cheeks at the thought that Xavier might have noticed it. A rush of embarrassment and arousal collided within me. Unable to resist the pull of memory, I tentatively traced the curve of my lips to my body, the touch reminiscent of Xavier's from that unforgettable night. His hands had possessed a magnetic power, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. ☄. *. ⋆ ﹌﹌﹌ Flashback

It was 1 am, and Xavier and I were still in the club. I remember vividly slow dancing to "Alone With You" by Alina Baraz. Xavier stood protectively in front of me, alert to any wandering eyes. "Something 'bout the look on your face, as you feelin’ a way, baby, I feel it too," I mouthed the lyrics to Xavier, my hands roaming over him, on his chest, on his neck—lost in the moment, and I noticed Xavier was smirking, looking at me, seeming to enjoy it. After spending countless hours partnering with Xavier in battle against the Wanderers, it became inevitable that I would begin to harbour feelings for him—admiring his sweetness, his mannerisms, his unwavering protectiveness, and God, that voice of his.

For months, I had been secretly listening to his voice notes, touching myself, feeling aroused by the softness of his tone. It's almost as if I am protected and safe just by listening to him.

I'm convinced that Xavier feels the same way because of all the signals he's been giving me, indicating his affection. However, despite this certainty, a hint of doubt lingers. It felt as if there was an undeniable distance—a boundary he was setting between us.

That night in the club, emboldened by alcohol’s courage, I found myself drawn closer to Xavier, scrutinising his features under the dim lights. His eyes gleamed like distant stars, captivating me with their allure. He was undeniably beautiful. As our gazes met, a mixture of confusion and intrigue danced in his eyes, shrouding him in an enigmatic aura I couldn't quite unravel.

I just want to kiss him so badly. Drawing tantalisingly close, I draped my arm over Xavier's neck as we swayed to the music, our bodies magnetically drawn together. His scent was nearly angelic, with perfume notes reminiscent of grapefruit and bergamot, further adding to his allure. Xavier's gaze lingered on me, intense and wanting, yet unable to voice his desires. Playfully, I nibbled on my lip, feeling the electric tension between us, sensing his arousal. Slyly, I guided his hands to my waist, silently granting permission as we moved to the slow rhythm.

Locked in a flirtatious exchange, I met his gaze, a silent invitation passing between us. Body to body, eye to eye, the tension was palpable. Positioning myself on my back, I purposefully initiated a sensual grind against him, daringly pushing the boundaries of the game. My fingers lingered close to his neck, and there, he reciprocated. Xavier was feeling me—his hands on my body as my hips ground against his clothed erection, causing it to grow harder.

The pulse of his arousal reverberated through me, igniting a fervent craving deep within my core. Both of us were lost in the moment, slowly moving to the rhythm of the music.

Turning my body back to him, I absorbed the expression etched on Xavier’s face. It was one I wished I could freeze forever. His endearing innocence, accentuated by a rosy blush, amplified the allure that made resisting him a futile endeavour. He exuded a captivating blend of bliss and longing, as if silently begging for more. Yet, despite his evident desire, Xavier exercised restraint. "Y/N, please," he implored softly. "You're drunk.”

With an insatiable longing, I took in every detail of his eyes, tracing the soft contours of his lips before locking eyes with him once more. "I'm not drunk...yet," I murmured softly, a breathless neediness creeping into my voice, as if daring him to push the boundaries further.

Should I take the leap and make the first move? Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the pull any longer. Just as I was about to lean in closer to him, he beat me to it. “Then, can I kiss you...? You look so pretty, I can't resist anymore,” he asked, his tone filled with neediness and helplessness. I knew it. I knew Xavier was into me, but hearing his verbal confession still caught me off guard, filling me with a heady mix of anticipation and delight. With a seductive curl of my lips into a grin, I wordlessly granted him my consent, sealing our mutual desire with a brief but intense kiss upon his lips. The giddy sensation from the kiss lingered, but Xavier's insistence on escorting me home carried a tender urgency, his need to ensure my safety blending seamlessly with the unspoken longing that hung between us.

Did Xavier really think I was that drunk? That I was unaware of my own actions? My heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty as I unlocked the door with my keycard and gently laid myself down on my bed. Xavier's presence beckoned irresistibly, and I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered with a mixture of desire and restraint, mirroring my own conflicting emotions. Craving his touch, I reached for his hand and pulled him down beside me, my fingers trembling with anticipation. We kissed again, our bodies gravitating closer, and his touch on my chin sent a rush of warmth coursing through me, banishing any doubts or hesitations I may have had.

"You have such soft skin," Xavier murmured, his fingers outlining my shoulders to my body. His words ignited a delicious tingle throughout me as we continued to share kisses. Feeling a surge of desire, I decided to intensify the intimacy. With a bold move, I rose from my seated position and straddled him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against me. As our bodies aligned, I began to move with a slow, tantalising rhythm, grinding against his clothed erection with increasing fervour. Each motion sent waves of pleasure coursing through us both, heightening the intensity of our connection. Xavier's hands explored every curve of my body, his touch adding fuel to the fire.

Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of lust, a lingering question nagged at my mind: What was holding him back? Was it fear, responsibility, or perhaps something else entirely? "You make me feel so safe," I whispered into his ear, my hands roaming over his body, eliciting soft whimpers of pleasure with both our clothes still intact.

But just as the intensity peaked, Xavier abruptly halted our exchange, reminding me of the blurred lines in our current situation. He gently grasped both of my wrists, then cupped my cheek in a tender gesture. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. “We can't do this. You're drunk, Y/N.” His words were both a plea and an apology, his gaze filled with admiration yet tinged with sorrow. “My god, look at you,” he continued, his tone filled with longing. “So... so pretty like this. But no, I can't... we can't—not like this. I'm sorry.”

As Xavier's lips brushed against my forehead, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged through me, mingling with the warmth of his affectionate gesture. I felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, the lingering echo of our shared desire, and the ache of unfulfilled longing. With each heartbeat, I struggled to reconcile the tenderness of his kiss with the sudden emptiness left in his wake as he quietly slipped out the door, leaving me to grapple with the unresolved tension between us.

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as I found myself lost in a whirlwind of memories from the previous night. Each moment replayed in my mind with vivid clarity, revealing truths I hadn't fully grasped in the haze of last night. Amidst the tumult of my thoughts, a simple text message interrupted my reverie, stirring a mix of relief and anticipation within me. 'Hey, U up? how r u feeling?’ The words, though brief, carried a weight of concern and care that warmed my heart. However, amidst the exhaustion and emotional whirlwind of the night before, I succumbed to sleep before replying to Xavier. Flashback ends

﹌﹌﹌ ♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

With a shaky exhale, I snapped back to reality and shifted my focus away from the mirror. Peeling off my damp clothes, I slipped into the garments Xavier had passed to me earlier—a cozy grey jumper, white sweatpants and a pair of fuzzy socks. They carried the fresh scent of recently laundered fabric, infused with the comforting aroma of rosy detergent.

Carefully, I hung my wet clothes on an empty rack and used the towel to pat my hair dry. Exiting the bathroom, I spotted Xavier seated on the couch, his eyes heavy with drowsiness. The sound of the bathroom door closing startled him, jolting him awake from the brink of sleep. Squinting against the room light, he offered a warm smile as I approached. "Hey, you're back," he greeted, stretching his arms out in a lazy stretch. I thanked Xavier for the clothes and socks, feeling a rush of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. In response, he gestured towards a steaming cup of honey milk tea he had prepared, knowing it was my favourite. Next to it were a variety of cupcakes from the bakery shop he had visited earlier. I smiled, touched by his effort to please my palate. 

Sitting beside him on the couch, the television hummed softly in the background — casting a soothing ambiance over the room. However, the silence between us grew palpable, prompting me to break the ice. Despite the flickering images on the television screen, neither of us spoke, lost in our own thoughts. "So, any good shows on TV lately?" I ventured, trying to ease the tension with a casual conversation.

Xavier shook his head, his gaze distant as he stared at the screen. Sensing his unease, I shifted closer, determined to bridge the gap between us. "Did you went out today?" I asked gently, hoping to draw him out of his reverie. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I went for a run, just trying to clear my head," he admitted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. Concerned, I reached out to him, offering my support. "Do you need any help? I'm here for you," I reassured him, squeezing his hand comfortingly, at the same time taking a sip of the tea. As I reached out to comfort him, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in Xavier’s demeanour. Before I could dwell on the intensity of the moment, Xavier broached a topic that caught me off guard.

"Do you remember anything from last Saturday?" he asked suddenly, his tone hesitant.

Startled, I choked on my tea, the liquid spilling onto my shirt in an embarrassing display of clumsiness. "Shit. Umm. I-I don't remember... anything. At all. Um, what happened?" I stammered, my attempt to hide my discomfort only adding to the awkwardness of the moment.  As I fumbled to clean up the mess, a flurry of apologies spilled from my lips, each one a feeble attempt to distract from the truth lingering beneath the surface. In reality, I remembered everything from that night, every touch and detail etched into my memory with perfect clarity. Yet, despite this knowledge, I found myself unable to speak the truth, to acknowledge the undeniable connection that had formed between us. 

Was I denying my own feelings too, or simply afraid to confront them?

Xavier’s observation of my discomfort only added to my embarrassment, leaving me at a loss for words. 

"Sounds like a lie," he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his eyes twinkled with amusement. I headed to the kitchen to fetch more napkins. Sensing my unease, he too reached to grab for more and gently dabbed at the spilled tea on my shirt. I felt a sudden chill spread through my body, causing both my nipples to harden in response. A faint blush crept onto my cheeks as Xavier's gaze lingered on my reaction. Despite my attempts to conceal my arousal, the unspoken tension between us hung palpably in the air, underscored by the knowing smile tugged at the corners of Xavier’s lips.

Embarrassed, I deflected his words once more, particularly after he had already noticed my body's response to his touch. I turned back to check for any more spills on the couch, but I was stopped when Xavier enveloped me in a comforting hug from behind. I melted into his embrace, his warmth intoxicating as it seeped into mine. "I can't stop thinking about you ever since that night," Xavier confessed softly, his lips brushing against my ear. My heart raced at his words, a dangerous sweetness enveloping me in his proximity—a rush of desire mingled with uncertainty.

As Xavier opened up further, his words poured out in a rush of honesty. He confessed that he had been unable to sleep after sending me home that night, his thoughts consumed by visions of me. He admitted to finding solace only in fantasies of me, even resorting to pleasuring himself while imagining me in his arms. His confession sent a thrill through me, leaving me flushed and craving his touch even more.

"Every time I'm with you, it's like my heart skips a beat," he confessed, his voice heavy with desire and neediness. "I've wanted nothing more than to protect you, keep you safe, be by your side, and to make you happy. So I buried those feelings deep down because I wasn't sure if you felt the same way. But that night, I couldn't fight it anymore. You were so… irresistible. You’re like an addiction I can't shake off, and I don't want to. You drive me crazy in the best way possible, and I can't get enough of you."

As his embrace deepened, Xavier tenderly nuzzled his nose against my neck before trailing his lips to my collarbone.

“I couldn’t control myself, and resisting you any longer has become increasingly difficult. It's as if you've cast a spell over me. It feels almost criminal—the effect you have on me," he continued, a slight laugh in his voice, his arms wrapping tightly around my body as he whispered into my ear. “I find myself craving your presence, your touch, and those mesmerising eyes of yours... I just can’t get you off my mind. I just wanna know if you feel the same way too.”

Feeling unable to hold back any longer, I bare my feelings for him, summoning the courage to confess how I couldn’t resist touching myself to his voice notes every night. I found myself lost in their soothing cadence, a mixture of comfort and arousal intertwining in my mind. But it's not just his voice that ensnares me; it's the tenderness and kindness he exudes, weaving a tapestry of longing and connection that I find impossible to evade.

I felt the atmosphere shift, the tension palpable between us.

Xavier’s voice caught, his tone laced with surprise. “Every night? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have offered more than just… voice notes,” he said. His smile turned playful, revealing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. I playfully nudged his arm, attempting to escape his embrace, but he only tightened his hold, and I could feel his erection growing bigger.

His refusal to release his embrace made my body quiver in anticipation. His hands explored my curves, silently pleading for more as I pressed closer against him. Pausing before speaking again, he exhaled with longing. “Do you want me to continue? Please, please say yes,' he pleaded, his lips grazing my neck before tenderly moving to my cheeks.

Yes. A million times yes. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Are you kidding me?

With a nod of approval and verbally expressing my consent, I closed my eyes, surrendering to his touch. His hands cupped my breasts, easing away the tension with each caress. I savoured his scent mingling with mine as he moaned softly, his fingers finding their way to tease and tantalise my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. Gradually, his hands ventured beneath my shirt, firmly squeezing and grabbing my bare breasts and skin, eliciting an ecstatic moan from me in response. Moved by the urge to reciprocate and heighten Xavier’s pleasure, my hands reached toward his arousal, gently palming his hardness through the fabric of his pants. I slowly ground my ass against his firm erection, deliberately driving him wild. With slow, deliberate movements, I began to rub and stroke him, intent on bringing him the same pleasure he was offering me. As I explored his size, he felt long and slender beneath my touch—leaving my core suddenly feeling empty and wet.

As Xavier's lips pressed tender kisses onto my shoulder, a gentle sigh escaped my lips as he brushed against the subtle fragrance of my Bare Vanilla perfume, very faint, nestled just below my ear. He paused, inhaling deeply, his expression transforming into one of unmistakable pleasure. "I love this scent on you," he whispered, his voice saturated with desire.

“Can't wait to taste you,” he continued, his tone low and dark, brimming with longing and need. Xavier’s movements became more fervent, accompanied by soft moans escaping his lips. In response, his hands found their way to slip into my pants and gently circle my clothed clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of pleasure coursing through my body. With his other arm, he pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed tightly together. I melted into his touch, arching my back and resting my head on his shoulder, silently conveying my pleasure. His lips continued their exploration, trailing kisses along my neck and intensifying their attention on my shoulders. With a gentle yet decisive movement, Xavier turned me by my waist, now facing him. Our bodies were so close that I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach.

He then showered my neck with more kisses, his hands finding their way to grip my ass and lightly tap it. In response, I teasingly traced my fingers under his shirt, returning his kisses with passion. I love the way Xavier is making me feel. Unable to resist any longer, I halted our playfulness and took his hand, leading him to the living room where we settled onto the couch. With tender care, I nestled onto his lap, sinking into the plush cushions as we enveloped each other in a warm embrace.

As our kisses deepened, Xavier's touch grew insatiable, his fingers eagerly exploring every curve of my body as I straddled him. Each caress heightened my awareness of his growing arousal, fuelling my desire for him to be even more aroused. Yielding to my playful instincts, I decided to tease him further by rising from his lap and treating him to a seductive strip tease. With deliberate grace, I peeled away my shirt and pants, revealing myself in nothing but socks and a pastel blue lace thong, the anticipation hanging thick in the air between us.

"My favourite panties. Mmm," he murmured, his breath deepening as he swallowed, his fingers grazing the thin fabric of the thong, causing the elastic band to snap against my skin. Recollections of our initial meetings flooded my mind, vividly reminding me of the moments when his gaze lingered upon me, captivated by the sight of those particular panties. It was during one such encounter, as I leaned down to retrieve a plushie that had slipped from my grasp, that his eyes seemed unable to stray from the enticing sight. "Thank the lucky stars I have a sixth sense," I replied with a playful twinkle in my eye, savouring the anticipation building between us. He persisted in teasing and pleasuring me, eliciting gasps of desire from my lips as I yearned for more. 

I caught Xavier’s lips curling slightly at my words, a sight that filled with delight at his unbridled desire. The way he looked at me, all heated and giddy, added fuel to the fire of my own arousal. As I stood there, basking in his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through me, heightened by the contrast of the cool air against my exposed skin, mingling with the warmth radiating from our entwined bodies.

Xavier pulled me back onto his lap, his hands enveloping mine as he peppered soft kisses upon my palm. Moving with a tender yet urgent desire, his lips trailed from my hand to my nipples, where he sucked gently. Meanwhile, his hands eagerly gripped my ass, pulling me closer to him, eliciting a soft moan from me as I watched his lewd act unfold before me. He gasped for air after his arousing exploration of my nipples, feeling his breath hot against my skin. Cupping his face in my hands, I showered him with soft, lingering kisses, starting from his rosy cheeks, then trailing a path to his inviting lips, his cute nose, and finally, his smooth forehead. In response, he reciprocated within seconds, returning my kisses with equal passion which made me giggle due to the ticklish sensation.

My fingers then glide through his beautiful hair, allowing myself to revel in the moment. The warmth of Xavier's embrace enveloping me in a sense of security and passion. As my hands trailed down to his chest, I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. With a playful glint in my eyes, I deliberately circled my hips, relishing in the pleasure as I teased his arousal through the fabric of his pants with each subtle movement.

Xavier’s hungry eyes devoured my naked body, each glance feeling like a caress. Suddenly, his hand came down on my ass with a sharp spank, a playful punishment for my naughtiness. I gasped in surprise, but the thrill of his touch only made my core throb with anticipation.

There’s something so sexy in being the one who’s stripped down to just panties and socks, while being locked in a heated embrace with a fully clothed man.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he moaned, his eyes growing darker, indicating his eagerness to do more than just kiss and spank me tonight. “You don’t have to listen to my voice notes anymore,” he continued, murmuring huskily with his hands gripping my ass as he held me close. “I can talk you through it anytime you want…from now onwards, every night.” Xavier’s gaze locked with mine.

His words made me blush even more, the heat rising in my cheeks, intensifying my need for him. Xavier offering to talk me through my orgasms? Like? Holy fuck. The mere thought made my mind dance with tantalizing fantasies and wander to all sorts of delicious scenarios, stirring a wild craving that pulsed through every inch of my being, leaving me squirming with anticipation.

“Oh really? You sure you won’t be tired?” I teased, leaning in closer and playfully biting his lower lip, a flirty glint in my eyes as I recalled his tendency to doze off during the day. “For you, I’ll stay awake all night,” he replied, his tone brimming with determination and desire. His hands reached for mine, kissing it tenderly, his expression filled with an ardent longing. I never imagined Xavier could be so utterly infatuated with me. His shy demeanour was nowhere to be found. It's surprising how unabashedly sexy he sounds. Yearning to taste him, my heart raced with anticipation as I gracefully rose from his lap, positioning myself on the ground before him —in a low kneel position. 

Looking into Xavier’s eyes, I began to explore his thighs, running my hands over the fabric of his pants until I reached his undeniable arousal. Slowly, I pulled down his pants slightly, revealing his full glory beneath. His erection stood proudly, a glistening bead of precum at its tip. 

I moaned at the sight of his long and slender erection in my hands, wondering if I could take it all inside me.

As I leaned in closer, I moistened my lips, preparing to take him into my mouth. With a gentle touch, I traced circles along his shaft, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. A low groan escaped his lips, spurring me on. With a deliberate motion, I applied a slick of saliva, ensuring smooth entry as I enveloped Xavier in warmth. Our eyes locked onto each other, maintaining unbroken contact, heightening the intensity between us.

He reached out, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding it in place to make it easier for me to pleasure him with my tongue.

The taste of him was intoxicating, his musky scent filling my senses as I savoured each lick and tease. Despite the difficulty of accommodating his sizeable erection in my mouth because of its length, I persisted. With every moan that escaped his lips, I felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that my efforts were driving him wild. The sound of my gagging only added to the intensity of the moment, sending vibrations of pleasure humming through my throat.

“Yes…just like that. You’re doing so good” Xavier cooed, his moans like music to my ears. He lets me have my way with him, without any resistance or coercion, which only fuels my desire to engage in even more naughty, sinful acts with him.

Deciding to delay climaxing for the moment, Xavier withdraws his erection from my mouth and gently lifts me from my position. With care, he settles me back onto the couch, lying me down on it with tenderness. He shifts my leg, positioning it between his body and mine. As my legs find their place between us, he pauses to admire my beauty, playfully pinching my nipples and tracing kisses along my skin. My body shudders in response to his touch, aching for more with each caress. Xavier then firmly grasps my thighs and gently pushes them down, exposing me completely to his gaze. With my legs draped over my stomach, he continues to explore my body with his hands, his fingers eventually finding their way to my clit, concealed just enough beneath my pastel blue thong.

His voice carries a smooth sweetness, almost velvety—wrapping around me with a seductive undertone as he posed his question. “How long have you been fantasising about me?” his words hung between us, punctuated by soft kisses planted on my thighs before he continued. His relentless teasing drove me to the brink of madness. My throbbing clit yearned for the exquisite touch of his tongue, yet he tantalisingly denied me, his lips lingering maddeningly close but only grazing my trembling thighs, making my clit throb more.

"Ever since I first saw you!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with a hint of moan. Xavier's grin widened, his pride evident as he heard my response. "That night in the club, you were teasing me so hard and grinding on me," he continued, his tone playful yet curious. "Were you intentionally trying to arouse me, or was it simply the influence of alcohol?" Xavier asked again, his gaze searching for the truth as he peppered kisses near my core, teasingly close, tempting me with his seductive proximity.

"I only had two shots of tequila. I just couldn’t resist teasing you," I confessed, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "You looked so good in that lighting, and I couldn’t help it. I got so horny just thinking about how it would feel to have that dick inside me," I added, feeling a rush of excitement at his attention, my tone teasing and flirtatious.

Xavier moaned in response to my confession, visibly pleased, his hand stroking his erection as he became aroused. He gave a sudden, firm lick against the fabric of my thong, where my clit was hidden, drawing a whimper from me in anticipation. In one swift motion, he grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls them away from me, leaving me exposed to his eager gaze. With unwavering focus, he directed all of his attention to my clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from me. He lavished it with his tongue as though it were his favourite dessert. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, far more intense than anything I could achieve alone, and I couldn't help but moan with pleasure at every lick. 

His hands gripped firmly on both my thighs, pushing them down to spread my folds even more, exposing my bare clit to his eager mouth. Xavier's expert attention had me writhing with desire, every touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I was soaked to the core, and Xavier showed no signs of stopping. His tongue danced over my folds at a rapid pace, driving me wild with each flick. The sensation was so intense that my hands instinctively ran through his hair.

When he fucked my clit repeatedly with his tongue, it sent me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but cum hard, my body shaking with pleasure as my pussy clenched in response. As I trembled from the intense climax, Xavier lifted his head, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "I wanna feel you," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust, each word sending a jolt of excitement through me.

Xavier's demeanour caught me off guard. Despite his angelic appearance, it was clear that he possessed a dark side, prompting me to reassess just how innocent he really was. While I adored both aspects of him, his freaky side held a particularly irresistible allure that turned me on. I push Xavier's face away from my clit, commanding him to get back to his seated position on the couch. The act of asserting control over him seems to intensify his arousal.

With an intense hunger in my core reserved solely for his manhood, I rise to straddle him once more—my favourite position. Perched on his lap, I ensure his throbbing erection aligns perfectly with my clit. With a teasing bounce, I let my breasts jiggle, tempting him further. "Your wish is my command, sir," I whisper, biting my lip, relishing the anticipation of being in control. I coat his shaft with my saliva several times, ensuring it's slick and ready for our pleasure. Each application of saliva is deliberate, my movements slow and teasing as I take my time to ensure he's adequately lubricated for what I have planned next.

His hands and fingers delicately traced the bottom of my feet, moving up to my legs, ensuring I felt stabilised and secure. His protective touch made my head swim with giddiness and my body ache with desire once again.

Deliberately, I glide Xavier's erection against my clit, relishing the pleasure that courses through both of us, evident in his uncontrollable moans. "You feel so good, yeah just like that… don't stop," Xavier gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. It was as if every nerve in his body had been set alight, flooding him with an intense wave of pleasure that left him breathless. The lewdness of my actions only serves to heighten my arousal, matching his fervour. As if guiding him into my pussy, I instead tease his erection with just the outer folds of my clit, luxuriating in the sensation. Xavier responds with lust-filled moans, his hands exploring my body with eager anticipation.I particularly enjoy the sensation of his thumb and index finger pinching my nipples, and I can't resist sucking on his fingers for added pleasure.

Continuing to tease him, I grind on his erection until I'm dripping wet and unable to hold back any longer. The desperate need to feel him inside me consumes me. Finally, I coat my hands with saliva once more before slowly guiding his dick inside me. The initial stretch is overwhelming, his lengthy and slender shaft momentarily causing concern, but soon I find myself accommodating him comfortably. As he fills me, a moan of relief and pleasure escapes my lips, echoing Xavier's own moans of satisfaction.

He praises me for taking all of him, his words stirring a sense of pride and determination within me, fuelling my desire to please him even more. Starting with a slow grind, I gradually increase the pace, bouncing fervently on his cock. The sensation of him filling me up completely ignites a primal need within me, urging me to move faster. With each thrust, I clench my pussy around him, feeling it throb with anticipation, aching for more of him. Xavier takes notice of my escalating desire and grips my ass firmly, his touch sending shivers down my spine. The sharp spanks he delivers heighten my neediness, each one adding a delicious sting to the pleasure coursing through me.

Feeling my fatigue from the vigorous motion, Xavier takes initiative and shifts our rhythm, thrusting into me instead. Xavier's eyes burn with desire as he pins my arms behind my back, his strength and dominance amplifying the intensity of our encounter. With each forceful thrust, he plunges deep into my throbbing pussy, driving me relentlessly towards the brink of ecstasy.

As his pace quickens, tears of pleasure well up in my eyes. 'You're doing so good, taking it in like that." I wriggled free from his grasp and instead placed my hands on his chest, using them to stabilise myself as I adjusted my position. With a subtle shift, I angled myself better, allowing me to bounce on him even more. "I can't hold back anymore, I’m going to cum,' Xavier exclaims. Just before he reaches climax, I release myself from his grip, dropping to my knees, eager for him to cover my mouth and face with his release. He then releases onto my face and tongue, his cum pouring over me in abundance.

I let him cover my face and tongue until there's no more left. With a hint of lingering desire, I decide to prolong his orgasm, swallowing his cum while gently licking his tip. It seems Xavier is overwhelmed by the sensation, almost on the verge of passing out.

"Fuck," he moans explicitly. Despite his satisfaction, he expresses a hint of apology, explaining that he didn’t want to soil my face. I offer a reassuring smile, assuring him that it's alright and that I love it. His eyes soften with gratitude, and a warm sigh escapes him, relieved by my understanding. Gently, I savour some of his warmth from my skin, the sensation still intense and lingering. Rushing to fetch a towel, Xavier wipes my face clean, his touch tender and apologetic, yet filled with care and affection. He quickly moves to support me, wrapping his arms around my waist tenderly. Pressing gentle kisses to my shoulder, he murmurs soothing words of reassurance as he catches his breath. Laying me back onto the couch, he ensures that I’m comfortable and relaxed, his concern for my well-being evident in every gesture. I invite him to join me, and as he settles beside me, I gently stroke his hair and offer him a warm embrace.

Xavier momentarily detaches, his footsteps echoing lightly against the hardwood floor as he made his way to the kitchen, a subtle spring in his step betraying the renewed energy coursing through him. As he returned with a tray of refreshments, a playful glint danced in his eyes, his grin infectious.

"You seem like you've been fully recharged," I remarked, a teasing lilt to my voice as I admired his refreshed appearance. "Did I unknowingly stumble upon the secret to your energy?" Xavier chuckled, setting the tray down with a gentle clink of glasses. "Perhaps you have," he teased in return, his tone tinged with flirtatiousness. "Your place next?" The playful banter between us filled the room, infusing our embrace with an even deeper sense of closeness and intimacy as we basked in the afterglow of our shared passion. As we snuggle once again, this time much closer, Xavier reminds me of how cherished and loved I am, reaffirming our deep connection and the intimacy we share. Throughout the aftercare, his focus remains entirely on me, ensuring my well-being and emotional comfort are prioritised above all else.

—By prettyobsessed. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🧸🐇୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀🧷 P.S: It’s my very first time writing smut! What do you think? xx

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭

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this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

[star2fishmeg]

ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ?

[1.1k] Pairing | Quinn Hughes x afab!reader Summary| what's a better way to fall asleep than hot sex. literally. Warnings | 18+ smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), making out, fingering, swearing, pet names (princess), tiny bit of degradation kink (slut), praise kink, I think that's all? Authors Note | need quinn in my neck <3333 I was shit tired when most of this was written but I am not sorry for thirsty as fuck quinner

If she weren’t already hot as it was, Quinn’s body wrapped around her just added a cherry on top. For a guy who almost fought Jack over having the big fan in his room (his argument being that Jack had it last summer when they all stayed at the lake house), Quinn didn’t seem to mind the heat when he pressed his chest into her back, one arm securely wrapped around her waist, hand on her breast while his other fell numb tucked under her head. 

Y/n’s eyelids struggled, yet not even the fan's hum could lull her to sleep while the bedroom sat at a horrible twenty-one degrees, skin sticky and her boyfriend’s breath flushing over her neck. At least he hadn’t started snoring, yet. Her mind awake, she fidgeted, hoping a new position would find a cool patch but instead, she pushed her ass back into Quinn, cock already wide awake and now poking at her prominently. Her breath hitched, fast asleep and horny, Captain Quinn’s always full of surprises. 

“Mmm,” he softly moaned into her shoulder, voice husky and muffled, “stop moving s’much.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” His hand palmed her tit, grinding his cock into her ass and placing lazy, wet kisses on her neck. Heat pooled in her stomach, eyes fluttering closed as he nipped at her neck. 

“S’kay, was already awake. Thought I woke you.” he slid his hand off her chest and under her shirt, flat palm soothing over her stomach, teasing the waistband of her panties.

“Just can’t sleep.” she twisted her body around slightly, enough so she could see his face retract from her neck and elbow prop himself up above her, noses ghosting. Even in the dark his eyes still bored into hers like she were the only woman on the planet, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips in some sort of carnal dilemma. 

“I can think of something that would help.” his voice just above a whisper, rumbling through his chest but still nothing but soft-spoken and dripping with honey, bucking his hips sharply into her. 

“Your family are literally asleep, I’m not having an awkward breakfast.”

“What? You can’t sleep and I’m horny, I think it’s a great idea,” his lips connected with hers, tongue taking no hesitation to enter her mouth and lap hers, moving with a sensual rhythm and drawing low moans from her throat, “Think you can be quiet, princess?”

“Yes,” she breathed, “m’gonna be quiet.” 

Quinn kissed her again, bruisingly, with gluttony for her taste. Remnants of peppermint toothpaste invaded his tastebuds as their saliva gathered at the corners of their mouths. The way he made out with her could’ve been enough foreplay in itself with the way his groans lured arousal out of her, drenching her panties and forcing her thighs to clamp for the slightest dose of friction. He pulled her legs apart, moving one to hook around his hip so his fingers could trace feathery circles over her clit, teasing and igniting the sparks to surge through her body.

“S’fucking wet,” he smirked, “and I’ve barely touched you. What a little slut you are.” He dove back in, rougher until they pulled away for air. 

“Slut for you, your little slut,” y/n’s breathing quickened, becoming shuddered when his finger pulled her panties to the side, sliding through her dewing folds and rubbing circles on her bundle. Quinn’s lips tugged into a smile, his shorts tight and while exhilarating pleasure erupted in watching her squirm and mewl, the pulsing in his cock kicked off some sort of cruel lust that devoured him. “Need you inside, please.”

“Because you asked so nicely,” his middle finger plunged in, her lips parting as if to make a noise. He loved feeling her squeeze around him, beg him for more and when she did he slipped his ring finger in, mesmerised with the stained mewls she made in an attempt to stay quiet. Quinn’s fingers curled inside her, his chest swelling at her head tilting back and her bucking to meet his pace. “Such a good fucking girl.”

“Faster, shit please, faster,” he listened, driving his fingers to stroke her walls, “so good, Quinn, feels so good.”

The throbbing was unbearable, his fingers getting more action than his dick and her whispy volume may as well have been tugging him off. Quinn’s mind fogged watching her chest heave and eyebrows knit, body squirming the faster his fingers fucked her until she was breathless. He’d just been dreaming about that moment, but fantasies can only get you so far, the real thing proved twice as euphoric.

He pulled them out, fast, “Fuck this.” He flipped her back onto her side, pulling his angry cock from his shorts and running the tip along her sensitive folds, squeezing his eyes closed at the electric sensation that finally hit his body. Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he delved inside her and was immediately welcomed into a tight embrace. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Fuck me, Quinn, please.” With her back against his chest, her hand fisted her pillow, his hips thrusting at a voracious pace, melting into her with every whimper that matched his hips. She stuffed her face into her pillow to silence herself, tears pricking and wetting the case the more the knot in her stomach tightened and twisted. 

Despite instructing her to stay quiet, Quinn’s grunts would’ve given them away if his head weren’t in her hair. He’d never been this worked up before but living under the same roof as your family while spending every day watching his girlfriend prance around in short shorts and tiny bikinis and not having the freedom to fuck her senseless had that effect, he just wished they were absent so he could hear her scream his name like a mantra. 

“Gonna cum-” y/n mumbled, cutting herself off with a strangled whine feeling his movements become slower but harsher.

“With me, princess,” his pace became sloppy, rigid and desperate, “cum with me.”

The knot snapped, a muffled whine tearing through her as Quinn fucked her languidly through her orgasm, his thick ropes filling her, stuffing her full and leaking down her thighs while they lay there, catching their breaths and muttering ‘I love you’ endlessly. She licked her lips, taking deep breaths and letting her eyes drift shut, limbs exhausted and sleep finally ready to tuck her in. He smiled, kissing her cheek.

“You did so well. Don’t sleep jus’ yet, gotta clean you up.” 

“I’ll piss but only if you carry me.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[ange1heavensent]

━High Class Hooker━

Pairing: singer!natasha romanoff x model!fem reader

Content Warning: +18 content, minors do not interact, making out, tribbing, porn with plot, fic based on Madonnas and Jenny Shimizu's relationship in the 90's

w/c �� 2000

Natasha Romanoff was a force of nature on stage and a global icon. The world adored her, worshipped her every move, her voice, her presence. Her performances across Europe were breaking records, with people flying across countries to watch her perform. But beneath all the flashing lights and roaring crowds, her mind was always drawn back to you, an undeniable craving pulling at her whenever you were apart.

Tonight, after another concert in Paris, that craving was stronger than ever. The encore had barely ended, the applause still ringing in her ears when she slipped away backstage, grabbing her phone with a hunger she couldn't ignore. She dialled your number, her fingers trembling slightly. When you answered, your voice soft and teasing, it sent a spark of desire straight through her. "Hey, superstar," you greeted, a smile in your voice. "How was the show?"

Natasha leaned against the dressing room counter, her heartbeat quickening just at the sound of you. "It was fine," she murmured, her tone low and sultry, the music she had just performed was still thrumming in her ears. "But it would’ve been better if you were here." A beat of silence lingered before you chuckled, the sound rich and knowing. "Missing me already?"

"I need you," Natasha breathed, her voice husky with intent. There was no point in pretending, she didn’t just miss you, she needed you. Every muscle in her body was aching with the memory of your touch, your skin, the way you felt beneath her. "Get on the first flight. Come to me."

It wasn’t the first time Natasha had summoned you like this, calling you away from your world of flashing cameras and runways to be at her side, even if only for one night. You were both high-profile figures, always on the move, but when she called, you came. Every time.

You could hear the command in her voice, the silent plea, and it stirred something deep inside you. "I’ll be there," you replied, and hung up, your pulse quickening with anticipation.

-

Within hours, you were on a plane, Paris-bound, the city lights glowing in the distance as the private car Natasha had sent waited at the airport to collect you. The car sped through the quiet, rain-slicked streets of Paris until it finally pulled up at the discreet hotel where she was staying. The driver escorted you up to Natasha’s penthouse suite. No security checks and no questions asked. You were whisked through the lobby with the kind of efficiency that came with being connected to a world-class celebrity.

The door to her suite opened just as you arrived. There she stood, leaning against the doorframe, her hair still slightly damp from the post-show shower. She looked at you with a smouldering gaze, wearing nothing but a silk robe that hung loosely around her figure. "You made it," Natasha purred, her eyes dark with desire as they roamed over you, drinking you in. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," you teased, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind you as she pulled you in close, her lips crashing against yours with an urgency that told you everything. Natasha never wasted time on words when she could show you exactly what she wanted.

You barely had time to breathe as she pressed you against the nearest wall, her hands already slipping beneath the fabric of your coat, fingers tracing the edges of your body with practised precision. "I’ve been thinking about this all night," she whispered, her lips brushing against your neck, "thinking about you." The heat between you grew instantly, the air charged with a tension that neither of you bothered to fight. Natasha’s hands were everywhere, possessive, demanding, and you could feel her need in every touch.

The bed was only steps away, but Natasha didn't have the patience to make it there just yet. She wanted to feel you, to have you right here, right now. Your clothes were gone in a matter of moments, discarded carelessly as she led you to the edge of the bed.

She pushed you down, crawling over you, her weight pressing you into the plush mattress. "You know what I want," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as her fingers began tracing patterns along your thighs. You bit back a moan as she took control, her touch skilled, knowing exactly how to unravel you.

Your hands travelled north, tracing the soft skin of her thighs and hips before slipping over the delicate fabric of her silk robe. With a gentle tug, you loosened the knot at her waist, the robe falling open with ease. Though you had seen Natasha naked before, the sight of her always took your breath away. Your eyes lingered on her chest, her nipples already hardened by the cool air. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to one, the warmth of your mouth a sharp contrast to the cold, drawing a low, satisfied groan from her. 

As your mouth lavished attention on her sensitive skin, you could feel Natasha's body tense and relax beneath your touch. Her fingers tangled in your hair, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. Her back arched slightly, pressing her chest into you, silently begging for more. "You always know exactly what I need," Natasha whispered, her voice breathless.

You responded by pressing a soft kiss to her sternum, your lips tracing the delicate line of her collarbone. The cool air of the room made each warm touch even more intense. You pulled her closer, the silk robe slipping down her shoulders. The soft fabric gilded against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You paused for a moment, your gaze meeting hers. Tell me what you want," you whispered against her skin, your breath sending shivers through her. Natasha's lips curved into a soft smile as she leaned back,"I want to feel you," she murmured, her voice dropping lower. "All of you." With that, you laid down again and let her take charge. She repositioned your bodies, guided your thigh upward and positioned herself above you. The shift of her body, the warmth and weight of her above you, left you breathless. Natasha shuddered as she felt her clitoris nudge against yours, your gasp and indication that you were as sensitive as she was.

Your hands found their place on her hips, fingers grazing the delicate skin. She shivered slightly at your touch, and the sensation made your heart pound harder. You guided her slowly, savouring the way her body pressed against yours, the rhythm between you growing more deliberate.

With every slow movement, there were new sounds emitting from both of you. The way her eyes fluttered shut, the soft gasp that escaped her lips, these were moments you laid awake at night thinking about. You mirrored her pace, each motion purposeful, dragging out the delicious pleasure.

“You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice heavy with desire. There was something raw and honest in her tone that made your stomach tighten with want. You responded without words, your hands roaming across her body, tracing the line of her spine before gently pulling her down closer to you. Her soft skin, warm and inviting, pressed against you, and the sensation of being so close, so connected, sent a rush through your entire body.

Natasha’s hips began to move with more intent, her pace quickening as the friction between you intensified. Her head tilted back slightly, exposing the curve of her neck. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against her throat, the soft, salty taste of her skin grounding you in the moment. As her body rocked against yours, the air between you grew charged, each breath shared, each touch deliberate. You could feel her pulse quickening under your fingertips as she let herself get lost in the rhythm you had created together.

When she opened her eyes again, the intensity in her gaze made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice raw with need. “I won’t,” you murmured, your words soft but filled with the same urgency that coursed through both of you.

Natasha’s hands trailed down your sides, her touch light and teasing, yet insistent. The friction between your bodies was almost overwhelming now, every subtle movement drawing you both closer to the edge. You could feel her tensing, the tension coiling tighter in both of you.“God, you’re incredible,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath against her skin.

Her response was a soft moan, her forehead pressing against yours as she let herself get lost in the sensation. You could feel her trembling, her body responding to every movement, every touch, and the knowledge of how close she was only intensified your own pleasure.

The rhythm between you grew more frantic, bodies pressing together with increasing urgency. You were both teetering on the edge, the pleasure building into something too powerful to hold back any longer. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hips moving with even more need, and you felt the moment of tension just before she came undone. Her body trembled above you, her moans breaking into soft gasps as the pleasure overtook her. The sight and sound of her, completely lost in the moment, sent you over the edge with her. Your own release crashed over you, the sensation overwhelming as you held her close, both of you riding out the waves of pleasure together.

As the intensity of the moment faded, you both collapsed into each other, breathing hard, bodies still trembling. The room felt quieter now, the tension replaced by a soft, lingering warmth. Natasha stayed curled up against you, her skin warm and flushed. For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to just lie there in the afterglow, feeling each other’s presence.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence, her voice soft and full of affection. “You always know how to take my breath away.” You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart against yours. “You do the same to me.”

-

The first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains when you woke, the air still thick with the scent of her perfume and the aftermath of last night. Natasha was already up, sitting at the edge of the bed, her back to you as she stared out the window at the city below, wrapped in her robe.

She sensed your stirring and turned, her expression soft, but that guarded look already creeping back into her eyes. "I have to leave soon," she said quietly. There was a flicker of regret in her voice, but it was hidden behind the wall she's built between you. "The tour continues."

You sat up, the sheets falling around your waist. You understood the deal between you, the unspoken rules. You were her escape, her indulgence in the moments when the spotlight grew too bright, but nothing more. There was no room for more. "I know," you replied, rising from the bed, already reaching for your clothes. There was no need for affection, no lingering goodbyes. You both knew the routine.

As you dressed, you caught her watching you, her gaze lingering longer than it usually did. But she didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you. Natasha was always careful to keep you at arm’s length, no matter how close she pulled you at night. With a final glance, you walked to the door, the cool handle in your palm. "Good luck with the next show." Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, almost sad smile. 

"Thanks."

And with that, you left, the heavy door clicking shut behind you as you slipped back into your world, leaving Natasha Romanoff to continue in hers. But you both knew it wouldn’t be long before she called again. And when she did, you'd be there, ready to fall into her arms, if only for one more night.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[natsaffection]

Hi! I really love your writing, and have been binging it over and over again 🥰. What if Wanda or Nat (or both) were overstimulating reader to the point where she actually passes out. How do you think that would go?

Lights out. | WandaNat

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Threesome, Fingering, Overstimulation, passing out during sex

Word Count: 956

A/N: How many attempts it took me to find the right ..

The room was dimly lit, soft ambient light casting gentle shadows on the walls. Natasha and Wanda had meticulously set up everything for the evening, ensuring their beloved you would be enveloped in both pleasure and care. The intensity of their sessions had grown over time, each encounter exploring deeper levels of trust and connection.

You lay on the bed, your breath quickening as Natasha's skilled hands traced lines of fire along your skin. Wanda stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes gleaming with a mix of love and dominance, ready to use her powers to heighten the experience.

"You're doing so well..Look at you." Natasha murmured into your ear, her voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. Her hands moved to secure the restraints around your wrists, ensuring you couldn't move but still felt safe.

Wanda's fingers glowed with a soft, crimson light as she joined in, her powers enhancing every touch, every caress. "Do you like this, my love?" Wanda asked, her voice dripping with seduction.

"Y-Yes.." you moaned, your body arching in response to their combined efforts. The sensations were overwhelming, Natasha's lips and teeth nipping at your neck while Wanda's powers sent jolts of pleasure through your body.

Natasha's hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, while Wanda focused on your most sensitive areas, using her powers to amplify the pleasure. "You're such a good girl for us," Natasha whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "Do you want more?"

"Please! Yes..” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. Wanda's smile was wicked as she leaned in, her fingers continuing their relentless assault. "You heard her, Nat. Give our girl what she wants."

Natasha's movements became more deliberate, more intense, as Wanda's powers sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The room was filled with the sound of their moans and whispers, each touch pushing you closer to the edge.

Your body convulsed with the intensity of your first orgasm, a scream of pleasure tearing from your lips. Natasha and Wanda didn't let up, their combined efforts driving you higher and higher. As the second orgasm washed over you, your cries grew more desperate, your body trembling uncontrollably.

"One more for us, darling," Natasha commanded, her voice a mix of softness and authority.

Your mind was a blur of sensation, the overwhelming pleasure pushing you to your limits. You felt the third orgasm building, the intensity almost too much to bear. "I... I can't.." you gasped, though you knew you could use your safeword if you truly needed to stop. Yet, you wanted this, craved the sensation.

"Yes, you can," Wanda encouraged, her powers amplifying the sensations even further. "You have your safeword if you want to stop, darling."

The third orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your vision blurring as you cried out in ecstasy. The pleasure was so intense that you felt yourself slipping away, your mind unable to hold onto consciousness any longer. And everything went black.

Natasha was the first to notice. "Wanda, stop!" she said urgently, her voice sharp. "She's passed out."

Wanda immediately ceased her actions, her powers dissipating as she rushed to your side. "What's happening? Is she okay?" Panic tinged her voice as she cupped your face, searching for any sign of consciousness.

"Hey, Y/n.." Natasha says softly but firmly, checking your pulse and breathing. "She's out cold, but she's breathing." Wanda's eyes widened in fear. "Did we push her too far?"

"Maybe," Natasha replied, her tone calm but filled with concern. "Let's get her out of these restraints and make her comfortable."

Together, they quickly released you, Natasha lifting you gently and cradling you in her arms. Natasha gently brushed your hair away from your face, murmuring, "I think we might have overdone it this time, Wanda." Wanda smiles slightly, concern in her eyes. "I guess we found her limit."

Natasha chuckled softly. "Yeah, definitely. But passing out? That's a first." Wanda grabbed a nearby blanket, covering you to keep you warm. They settled on the bed, Natasha holding you close while Wanda knelt beside them, her worry evident.

"Baby, can you hear me?" Natasha's voice was gentle but firm, her fingers brushing your hair away from your face. "She’s coming around," Wanda said, relief flooding her features as your eyes fluttered open.

You blinked, trying to focus, your mind still foggy from the overwhelming pleasure. "W-what happened?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, there. You passed out, love."" Natasha replied softly, her tone soothing. "We were so worried." Your eyes widened. "I did? Oh my God, I... I'm sorry-“

Wanda interrupted softly. "Sorry? Why? You were amazing." Still disoriented but smiling, you replied, "I just... I didn't know I could feel like that."

Natasha leaned in to kiss your forehead. "We might have pushed you a bit too far. Are you okay?" You nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so. Just a little overwhelmed."

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a look, their concern palpable. "Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?" Natasha asked, already moving to ensure your comfort.

"No, just...hold me," you replied, your voice steadier now. You looked at them both, seeing the worry in their eyes. "I've never felt anything like that before... it was incredible."

Wanda's relief was evident, but she still looked concerned. "Are you sure you're okay? We don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm sure. It was intense, but in a good way.. The room settled into a comforting silence, the soft hum of the city outside barely audible. Natasha and Wanda held you close, their touches gentle and reassuring. You felt safe and cherished between them.

[notjustjavierpena]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter I

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here it is. I have been working hard on this chapter for you, plotting out the little details that will hopefully connect beautifully with the coming chapters. I hope you like my take on Marcus Acacius, and I hope you will be patient and follow along ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy the effort I’ve put into making this somewhat historically accurate! 

Chapter Summary: In which you meet your future husband, get a warning from an old friend and explore pleasure on your own - all the while tension grows in Rome. 

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, reference to marital SA but no actual SA, religion in the form of Roman Gods, talk about virginity, intense kissing, f!masturbation involving shame and guilt.

Word count: 7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/146141770

Chapter I: In these tumultuous times

You step through the atrium with a pulse that might break your ribs, too nervous to enjoy the marvel of the glorious marble construction that envelops you in near gold-speckled white. Neither can you fascinate yourself in the grandeur of the peristyle garden that you eventually find yourself in, green and luscious with well-tended plants that have no other purpose other than being beautiful - much like you. 

The afternoon sun will come soon, casting a shadow over the rose bushes and the fountains which slow trickles of water are supposed to bring you peace but somehow just makes you dread this meeting even more. Any girl back home would deem the location romantic from the blooming red flowers but you feel no affection for the man you are to greet in less than an hour. Even if your mother claims that you eventually will.

You thank the Gods that your mother isn’t here with you, knowing that you would have had to suffer through hearing her complain about Sol moving just a bit too far across the sky in his golden chariot to let your gown shine the way it is supposed to. She has already spent several hours doing your hair since dawn, decorating each strand with violets from the grass patch close to the river that runs through your village. Symbolizing modesty and faithfulness, she had said. 

It’s not like you are here alone though. Instead of being here with your mother, you are here with your father; a senator who, despite his well-earned respect in the confusing web of Roman politics, still finds ways to satisfy his greed for more power. In this case, it is giving away his daughter to General Marcus Acacius. 

“This is good for us,” your father had said during your silent crying as he talked about your new life with importance, “It will secure our family's position in these tumultuous times.”

Times are indeed tumultuous and they are changing right before your eyes in the form of angry shouts in the streets, rotting fruit and vegetables at the town square market, and fewer outings amongst commoners. Rome, once a beacon of hope and stability, now teeters on the edge of a type of chaos that not even the previous emperor Commodus could imagine putting his empire through. The co-emperors’ insanity, greed, and vanity drain the empire’s coffers as they engage in petty conflicts that lead to war left and right. As a result, the population is left impoverished, the youngest of men are dying in battle and the women cry for their families all the while the very top - your family included - luxuriates in growing wealth. Such is war, your father has stressed. 

“General Acacius is a man of influence,” your father had continued, his voice laced with conviction that you did not understand, “His alliance will protect us from the whims of those who oppose the emperors and their righteous campaigns.”

General Acacius is a man of great renown, co-emperors Geta and Caracella’s right-hand man, and with a sea of stories about his admirable exploits on the battlefield. Your father has somehow made the political move of his life by settling this deal, promising the great warrior a wife of exceptional beauty who he can do with as he pleases. Women never have a say in these things, so you simply smiled during dinners where your future was discussed in the same manner as when a farmer plans the sale of one of his cattle, listing the animal’s qualities like he would say them later to the buyer. 

Whenever he finally let you in on the conversation, he would give you a stern smile and emphasize the importance of this arrangement because of the honor and security it would bring to your family to have such a man as your ally. However, where your father wanted you to think about your future husband’s victories, all you do think about is the fact that your future husband is a man in his fifties and you have barely surpassed your twentieth Summer in the mortal realm. 

When the minutes tick by with excruciating slowness, you find a bench made of stone in the shade. You dust off your dress, tuck it close to your thighs, and sit down to steady your nervous breathing. The sun has made you unsteady, having beaten down on you - contrary to your mother’s worries - despite it being the last burning rays of the afternoon. You blame it on your overactive mind, the racing thoughts having gone straight to your heart and made your blood flow hot through you. 

You lay a hand against your forehead, fighting off a sob as the nerves finally get the better of you. There’s no way you can ever see your reflection in the cold river again, smell the hyacinths that brush your ankles as you walk through them, or hear the laughter of children in the building next door unless the giggles are those of your own little ones. 

You have been groomed for this, trained by your eager mother to be the perfect wife to a man you have never met. Your mother’s meticulous preparation is meant to ensure that you make a flawless first impression and are a suitable wife, but right now it does little to calm you because you know that this arrangement’s ultimate goal is for you to bear children that will be even more powerful than you and the General’s respective families. 

Barely an adult and never been kissed, forced to be intimate by the General’s command that will surely come. You know well enough that there’s more to it than that, Cassius, a boy from the market, once having revealed in great detail what goes on between a man and his wife or even just a man and a woman. The future wedding night feels like an impending disaster, embarrassing for you with the way your mother has also dragged you aside to tell you horror stories of men taking what they want from their wives with little regard for their pain. 

You gasp as a twig snaps close by, pulling you out of your trance to assess the situation. In front of you, you see him. General Marcus Acacius is standing no less than ten feet from you, his armor, a white plate body adorned with the design of two golden griffins, gleaming in the sunlight. He stands tall and imposing, his presence radiating with authority but when you spot him, his eyes make him seem incapable of the horrors that people attribute to married men. His hair, streaked with gray, frames a face marked by the years and experiences of a seasoned soldier. His eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into you as he waits for you to move. 

You stare up at him for a second only to be seized by panic as you remember the routine you had been forced to practice with your mother. Quickly, you rise from your seat, dust off your dress, and lower your gaze respectfully. 

“General Acacius, forgive me,” you say without finding his gaze. 

You hear your name on his lips, surprised to hear that his voice is firm yet not unkind. It’s hard to suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine, a tingling sensation at the small of your back as he speaks because you know what he will be doing to your body soon, “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

You nod, letting out the rehearsed lines expertly, “The honor is mine and mine alone, General.”

“Look at me, my child,” you hear him command softly, getting a glimpse of what led him to become the man of power and grace that he is today because you follow through without thinking. You only imagine what he must be able to accomplish when his voice is rough and demanding. However, his eyes are softer still, a striking contrast to his profession where he has to consider each of his steps with deliberate and measured precision. 

Marcus steps closer. You automatically take a step back, afraid that he might try and touch you already against your will. Nobody would know if he ravished you right here. He presses his mouth together in a thin line but he still somehow doesn’t look angry, instead just looks like he is analyzing the situation that he is in. 

“Your father thought it best that I introduced myself without him or the servants’ eyes watching. I was surprised at his immediate confidence in me to be alone with his youngest daughter,” he says while you hug yourself to soothe your aching chest, holding on tightly as you beg someone to help you escape. He examines you long enough for you to believe he won’t strike to take what he might want. You feel guilty for thinking that he might have, knowing that it’s not the actions of an honorable leader. 

“You are much younger than I expected,” he admits after a moment, a hint of weariness in his tone. 

A tear slides down your stinging cheeks but you quickly brush it away and regain your composure enough to not start sobbing. The embarrassment of your single teardrop is evident on your face as warmth creeps up through the intricate twists and bends of your bloodstream, a dull pounding sounding in your ears. 

“And you are a great man,” you reply in the most steady voice you can muster, “I hope to be a worthy wife to you.”

Marcus smiles, a small but genuine expression while he ignores your obvious distress. After all, this is not a matter in which women have a say. He sounds ever so confident in you, encouraging even, in a way you guess is to soothe your impending tears, “You will do well, I am sure.”

When you do not respond, he tries again. You must look like a scared little girl, desperately in need of being approached like a frightened animal and your heartbeat certainly imitates the one of a rabbit.

“I see you wear flowers in your hair,” he notes, finding the least threatening subject to discuss.

“Yes?” You furrow your brow, arms already falling down your sides. You link your fingers together in front of you. 

“I made sure to have the gardener do extra work on each of the flowers in case you were interested in flora and fauna,” he elaborates, “Does the garden please you, Carissima?” 

Carissima. The Latin word for dearest. He seems to be trying it out, collecting information from how you react to it, and making a move based on it. Your brows knit even further together but you use the opportunity to seem less scared and more relaxed after hearing it.

“It’s very beautiful, General. I shall be very fond of it in the future,” you say genuinely because, despite your ignorance of its charm right now, a rational part of you knows that it is gorgeous and enchanting. You will come to love it wholeheartedly.

“The birds that land in the trees here sing you awake in the early hours of the day,” he continues and mirrors you by also softening a little, looking around with a surprising fondness toward the gentle coos of the doves sitting on the rooftops, “If you are very lucky, you might hear a nightingale amongst the doves’ coos.”

“Nightingales are common back home,” you tell him with longing in your heart, closing your eyes for the briefest second but being able to see your backyard so clearly in that fleeting moment. Marcus senses it, shifting a bit on the spot with a concerned expression so you force a smile to let him know there’s no reason to worry about getting a sorrowful wife. You will cry tonight but you will be ready when he needs you to.

“So you know their song well,” he answers thoughtfully, “Good. I’m glad. It will remind you of home in these new surroundings. Will you let me show you the rest of the garden? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little before the weekend’s ceremony.”

He holds out his arm for you and you hesitate for just a moment before taking it, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how strong he is. His muscles flex gently underneath his bare skin, nicely soft wrapped around the muscles of his bicep when you expect everything about him to be rough and worn out by years of service to the empire. His smell envelops you, near-dizzying to you because you’ve never been in such close proximity to a man before and you don’t think you can imagine being any closer than this even though you have to soon. To think that you were nervous about him stepping close just minutes ago and now he is touching you and it feels… fine, not scary at all.

As he walks beside you, you can see the lines on his forehead when he speaks in concentration. He still looks good for his age, you find yourself thinking, blessed by the deities Venus and Apollo for his well-aged beauty and the golden radiance of his skin that reminds you of the sun. You notice his nose now that you see his profile, it curving in the way of Jupiter’s and making you swallow thickly at the power his mere appearance gives him. 

Some things speak to the young girl in you too; his beard has patches, one formed in a heart shape that you would tell the girls in your village back home about if you could. To this, they would giggle delightedly like they were still the age of getting tutored. 

Then there are his brown eyes, deep as the darkest of amber you have collected on the shorelines in your youth. They shine with sincerity, more than once filling yours with their honey glow as you walk together. You begin to see beyond the fearsome reputation and the sternness that he first approached you with. He speaks of the flowers surrounding you with surprising tenderness, admitting to the jasmine being his favorite, and of how he had the garden designed to remind him of his childhood home in the countryside.

You think that your responses seem trivial compared to the anecdotes that he is able to share but he seems to enjoy hearing tales about your childhood home. He nods in understanding and adds the words of someone well-reflected even if he is known for brutality when at war. You let down your guard, “We must have more in common than I initially thought, Gene—“ 

“Marcus,” he corrects when you come to a stop, “You may call me Marcus when we are alone.” 

“Marcus,” you repeat. You look down briefly as warmth settles in your cheeks, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest because you realize he has led you to a small, secluded area of the grand peristyle garden. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden hue over the marble fountain before you. It is small yet majestic in its simplicity, surrounded by vines of ivy and jasmine. It seems to be his favorite spot on all of his owned property.

“What are we doing here? Are we supposed to be this hidden from everyone else?” Your grip loosens on his arm.

“Never mind that, Carissima…”

There’s that name again. 

“Look, I know this isn’t the Trevi Fountain of Rome but I thought we could wish for Fortuna to bring us good luck and happiness together,” he reaches for his belt where a pouch hangs in a string that pulls it closed. He digs his thumb and index finger into it and digs out a coin, its front decorated with an engraved picture of a peacock’s feather; a symbol of Juno, the Goddess of marriage and childbirth. 

He holds the coin between his fingers, the sunlight catching its glimmering surface, and offers it to you with a gentle expression that’s not quite a smile in case it might scare you off. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your palm. This is your future husband and he is trying, doing everything in his power not to unsettle you but invite you to give yourself to him in the next coming days.

The coin is mostly cool against your skin but still holds the tiniest amount of warmth from Marcus’ fingers, its edges smooth and worn from years of handling. 

“This is a tradition,” Marcus explains, his voice carrying reverence, “We make a wish and toss the coin into the fountain. It is said that Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, grants blessings to those who seek her favor.”

You nod. This moment feels intimate, a quiet ritual shared between the two of you amidst the grandeur of the garden yet still hidden away from everyone else. This is a ritual of lovers, of people whose fates are closely entwined. You look at Marcus, meeting his warm brown eyes, and find reassurance in his steady gaze and slow secure breaths. You find it shameful that you believed him to be violent with you, that he would do anything with anger because he is, you realize, the type of man who doesn’t have to take anything by force when it comes to women. In that moment, it makes total sense to follow his wishes, but even more, it makes sense to wed him and go to bed with him. 

“What should I wish for?” You ask softly. 

Marcus dares a smile, “Whatever your heart desires. A wish for happiness, perhaps. Or for our future together to be filled with understanding and respect. Perhaps, in our own way, companionship and love.”

Together, you approach the edge of the fountain and you lean over it to gaze at the many glinting coins on the bottom. A violet falls from your hair and lands on the surface of the water, floating effortlessly with such strong symbolism that your stomach does a flip.

Marcus steps closer behind you and you turn to face him, the rim of the marble fountain digging into the back of your thighs until you nearly fall backward in an embarrassingly young fashion. Marcus takes you by the wrist to steady you but the touch doesn’t last long since you’re supposed to throw the coin over your shoulder. 

With a flick of your wrist, you send the coin into the water behind you. The only thing you feel is the coldness on your skin where Marcus’ fingers were a moment ago, the slight breeze cooling down his leftover body heat quickly. 

The coin hits the water with a splash. You swallow your nervousness to say something for the first time that isn’t the answer to a question from him, “May Fortuna smile upon us.”

“May she indeed,” Marcus agrees, pleased. He motions to a bench close by, “Shall we sit for a moment? Your feet must be tired.” 

You agree, and he helps you to sit. Your hands touching sends a spike of energy through you before you are disappointed by him taking a seat beside you but maintaining a respectful distance. He takes his sword out of its place in his belt and rests it against the bench, getting comfortable with you. 

“Marcus,” you say his name before you even realize what you want to ask of him.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for you to continue, nodding his head in acknowledgment. 

When your request comes to mind, you are struck by the fear of ridicule but you shove it down in favor of letting yourself have this.

“I know this is most unusual to ask of you, but would you give me a kiss?” The second you have said it, panic makes you babble in his presence, “I know my duties as a wife, my mother has told me plenty, but I cannot bear the idea of the first show of affection between us to be in our chambers and with… with more to come.” 

If you are not to burst into tears at the festivities after your union or even worse, when he takes you to bed, you need to get this out of the way. You only hope to be successful in your attempt, knowing it is not customary to follow through on such an ask. It hangs in the air for a moment, the garden seeming to hold its breath along with you. It all comes down to your future husband’s view of modesty. 

Marcus watches you carefully with an expression that is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. He looks like he might say no at first, afraid that someone from his staff might spot you and start a rumor that deems you unworthy of this arrangement. It might be the sincerity and vulnerability in your request that convinces him and lets him take the risk.  

“Very well, I understand your concern,” he nods with determination. 

He shifts closer on the stone bench, his movements slow as if trying to put you at ease, as if approaching a deer in the forest and not wanting it to run. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours as your thighs nearly touch, the scent of his skin filling your senses. It is leather, sandalwood… and something that is his own distinctive smell. Your heart races, your skin prickles underneath your gown, and heat spreads across your thighs. 

It feels like you only blink for a second but when you open your eyes again, Marcus is closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his uneven breaths mix with yours, 

“Are you ready?” He asks in a whisper, his breath warm against your face and his eyes roaming over your features in case you want to stop.

Your voice has died in your throat, so you simply nod your head. Marcus swallows thickly while you are lost in the fact that you can count his eyelashes right now. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours with care and apprehension that takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and restrained as if he is giving you the chance to pull away if you want to.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean into the kiss when you’ve gotten used to the scratch of his beard, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders and moving inwards towards his neck, sliding under the collar of his cape. His lips are warm and you feel a shiver run down your spine at a sort of contact you have never felt before. You wonder what he thinks of you, if your passion even in your inexperience is worth his time to broaden your horizon… but any doubt vanishes as the kiss deepens slightly, Marcus’ hand coming up from where it rests on the stone to lay on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A tiny noise leaves you and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can feel the strength in his arm as he has it wrapped around you but there is no force or demand in his touch. Instead, there is a sense of him handing control over to you. 

An instinct tells you to get even closer, straddle him, do something, anything even if you are not sure what. One of your hands falls down to Marcus’ chest plate, his uneven breath evident in how it pushes against your palm like raging waves. Your hand travels further down until the tips of your fingers brush his belt.

It is only then that the General reacts, pulling back firmly but without hurting you. He creates some distance between you by pushing you gently away by the shoulders. The both of you are breathless. He shakes his head, “Carissima. That was not part of the deal.”

You are embarrassed by your actions, not sure if Cupid is playing tricks on you by blowing to the fires of forbidden desire that you were not even aware burned in your lower belly. Your body hums but you are mortified, “S-sorry, my legatus. I don’t know what came over me.”

You go back to general. It feels appropriate to use his proper title now. You have brought shame on yourself, might as well have let him take your maidenhead right here on the stone-cold bench and the worst part is that you are not sure if the fire in your loins would have fogged your brain enough to not stop him from doing it. 

“Please, do not apologize,” he says to reassure, holding up a hand to stop you from protesting, “There is nothing wrong with what you feel. It is natural. But I want to honor my promise to your father, no matter the impulses that you give me. You are as beautiful as Venus herself. I shall enjoy our time together very much when it comes.”

“Thank you,” you say with a still trembling voice. The lump in your throat feels impossible to swallow. 

“Now. Shall we continue our walk?” He suggests while getting up from his seat, his tone light as if to ease the tension. He offers you a gentle smile as he ties his sword to his belt again then reaches to take your hand.

You get up with a simple nod. He acts like nothing for the rest of the day. 

—

You return home by carriage after dinner at Marcus’ estate. After a day with such complex emotions being explored, with how your new life seems less and less like a dream, and with how the sun hangs so low in the sky, you have already started to feel tiredness taking over your body. 

You excuse yourself to your room not long after you return to the comfortable familiarity of your home, brattishly avoiding conversation with your mother about how everything went when she starts asking a million questions. 

“I thought you might like to talk,” she says after you have gotten up from your seat in the living room, a few paces behind you as you make your way down the halls. 

“Mother, I just want some rest,” you stress, bare feet patting across the floor. You hold your skirt up to walk faster, nearing your destination but not wanting to slam the door in her face, “I do not wish to talk about anything with anyone. Ask Father. I bet he’ll be eager.”

“Dearest,” she tries, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Please,” you beg as you turn around in the doorway, “It was fine. I’ll be fine, it’s just a huge transition from this life.”

“That���s why I wanted to—“

“No,” you say more firmly than intended but your overwhelmed state leaves you with little patience. You hope she understands, know that she might because her marriage to your father started the very same way, “I promise we can talk in the morning but I really need some time for myself right now.”

Your mother looks slightly hurt like she is watching her child slip through her fingers during her last night at home. You swallow thickly but hold your ground. 

“Very well,” she says finally, eyes closing briefly to breathe through her nose. She forces a small smile and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow with this conversation forgotten.”

You offer the very same smile in return, then close the door behind you with a relieved sigh. You cross the room to the window, pushing open the shudders to overlook the buzzing garden. 

Carefully, you start detangling the flowers from your hair and laying them on the window sill. A few of them are taken by the wind, some landing on the ground while others delicately fly through the air. You watch them until a gasp leaves you, two eyes belonging to a man staring at you from across the garden but you don’t feel frightened. 

You sigh with annoyance as he steps out of the bushes and closer to the window, picking up one of the violets on his way, “You should not be here, Cassius.”

“I wanted to see you before tomorrow,” he admits with a little smile, boyish and inexperienced compared to the ones you have received from Marcus today. He places his hands on the window frame, about to crawl inside.

“Are you trying to get killed?” You whisper loudly and barricade the window, “You cannot be in here, don’t come in.”

“What if I never see you again?” Cassius huffs but doesn’t push it, “I just wanted to say congratulations on your union tomorrow.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Cass. Of course, I’ll see you again; you’re my oldest friend,” you say with exasperation but you know that it is naive of you to assume this is the way things work. Cassius grew up with a farmer for a father, living far away in the countryside where the houses are surrounded by fields of vegetables that they eat at the palace and a long way from the neighborhood that you have grown up in.

“Well, you can say it from outside my window,” you continue and tense up at a few footsteps outside your door. You hold your index finger in front of your lips, listening intently to see if they pass or stop in suspicion of who you are talking to.

A moment passes and the footsteps fade. You turn back to Cassius who now wears a troubled expression, eyebrows knitted together. You go a little softer, a little more quiet, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Cassius hesitates just a second before speaking, “Your dear old dad has probably told you about this but things are changing around the outskirts of Rome. It’s growing more dangerous by the day to live out where I am. Geta and Caracalla’s combined ruling. They are not in their right mind and it is tearing the backbone of the empire apart. We’re angry and starving.”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Your father has indeed talked about this during dinners in the past but always with no air of real concern and more with a scoff when mentioning the ungrateful people of Rome, their greed, their arrogance but mostly their lack of trust in their emperors who are right under the Gods.

“Why are you saying this?” You inquire impatiently.

“To ensure your safety in all of this when things break loose. You know how I feel about you,” Cassius looks down briefly. Yes, you know how he feels about you and while you have never reciprocated his love, you feel a tug in your heart about how he has waited for you for years with knowledge of how impossible your life together would be. A farm boy and the daughter of a senator? It is doomed from the very beginning.

“If things are as dangerous as you say then the General will be able to protect me, will he not?” You ask to push him away, make him let go of you. 

“Marcus Acacius is a powerful man, but even he may not be able to navigate the storm that’s coming to the citadel,” Cassius places a hand on the window sill, the violets flying to all sides from the force. It’s his way of trying to get closer. 

“And your solution is what? That I run away with you? Please,” you look down at his hand. This is not one of those moments where you realize your feelings after all this time, after years of childhood friendship, and run off together with the boy next door, so you let your hands fall down to your sides. 

“Don’t marry him,” he suggests with pleading eyes, “I don’t want you with those people.”

You laugh in disbelief and turn your head away, “Cassius, by the Gods, you know that I have no say in that whatsoever. Besides, who says that I don’t want to be there with him?”

Cassius ignores the last part of your sentence bitterly, “Then just be careful, my friend. I know your father has power but I know he favors the emperors which will not benefit him in the coming future. Those caught in the middle often pay the highest price and you’ll soon be at the very top, exposed.”

You shake your head to brush him off but something is looming underneath Cassius’ words. They don’t sound as delusional as your father might think them and you poke fun to maybe earn a confession, “You sound like you’re going to storm the palace tomorrow.”

It is Cassius’ turn to laugh but the sound is hollow, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. I would never be so bold as to make you hate me. No, I have no plans to go so far.”

“What are you planning?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Nothing right at this moment,” he replies quickly but unconvincingly. You can feel the tension in his voice and the strain on his jaw as he clenches it, “But I will do what I must if it comes to a point where I need to fight back.” 

“You make it sound like I have the power to fix everything. I do not,” you say with frustration.

“Then at least change your heart,” he tries one last time, holding his hand out for you like he wants you to take it and crawl out the window, never to show your face here again. 

You shake your head, “Cassius, you know our lives were never meant to intertwine like that. We come from different worlds.”

“But our hearts,” he whispers sorrowfully, “They’re from the same world. At least, mine has always belonged to you.”

“Cassius…”

“I understand,” he admits in defeat, “Marry him, have his children but stay out of the palace. I can’t stress that enough. Stay out of the palace.”

“You are speaking in tongues again, what does this mean? What do you know?” You stare at him.

Cassius steps back from the window, the distance between you growing both physically and emotionally. With a sad smile, he looks at you one last time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cassius,” you reply with furrowed brows. 

With that, he turns back into the night, leaving you with a mind filled with questions. You watch as he disappears into the shadows of the garden. 

You lean against the wall with a deep breath, heart heavy with uncertainty about who you thought you knew so well but you decide to ignore it completely to get some relief by rest. You will rather try to focus on the events of tomorrow as you start to undress down to your tunic, your thoughts swarming around Marcus instead of Cassius. The way that things are supposed to be.

Not long after, you lie down to sleep in your bedroom for the last time before moving into Marcus Acacius’ villa the next day. You should be feeling upset about leaving everything and everyone behind, nostalgic and melancholic even about Cassius, but all your mind does is replay the events that took place on the bench in the peristyle courtyard just half a day beforehand. It is so vivid that you cannot seem to rest, the images of Marcus’ beautiful, God-given eyes and mouth flashing on the inside of your eyelids whenever you try to fall asleep. The pictures are in such vibrant colors too, so intense that you resort to pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. The colors smear and blur together until they look like painting instead but you have to stop due to the ache. 

It doesn't matter anyway because it isn’t enough. Your vision isn’t the only one of your senses that he has taken as his own. The feel of his mouth lingers on yours, enough for you to let your fingertips trace over your bottom lip. It feels the same but then again, it doesn’t. Maybe he has left a mark on you that no one has dared to point out? 

As well lingers a feeling of a spark that cannot be extinguished once it has been ignited. The sensation has you restless under the covers, the woven fabric scratching uncomfortably against your arms and legs until you have to throw them off. 

It is a warm night tonight. The window shutters are still open to let in a night breeze that feels nice on your bare, burning, and untouched skin. You try to find sleep by listening to the usual chirping sound of the crickets but it is of no comfort this time. Marcus is still right there with you, his strong hand on your back and his eyes flickering down to your lips. In your head, he wants you and he lifts up your tunic to touch you where your pulse throbs and— By Jupiter, you need to calm yourself. 

You open your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Everyone has gone to bed, your parents, despite your protests, having come in and kissed you on the forehead while expressing how proud you have made them feel. Yet in the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom, everything feels foreign now that you’ve stepped into new territory of desire, unlocking something that separates you from what belongs to the mind of someone’s child. You don’t belong anymore in this room with walls that contain all of your childhood memories. You are grown now.

You should feel sorrow about this, about never coming back here but instead, your body buzzes like a hive of bees, tiny shivers of lust provided by Cupid flowing through you as teasingly as the softest butterfly wings flapping around inside you. It’s a forbidden feeling that stirs guilt in you but also a strange anticipation that has your hand slipping down your belly. Has your skin always been this soft?

You wonder if Marcus feels the same turmoil inside of himself, if he is lying awake just as you are right now and replaying the way your fingertips danced around his waistband but never got any further. The thought makes your hand slide down between your legs, reaching up under the hem of your tunic until your fingers slide over the wet skin there. You breathe deeply in through your nose.

You have done this a few times before but you’ve always gotten to a point where you have to stop yourself, afraid of what might happen when you feel yourself start to reach some sort of pinnacle that you are at a loss for words to describe. It’s natural, you remember Marcus saying about your body’s response. But doing it alone? Isn’t what you are feeling as you touch yourself reserved for your future husband? What would he say if he saw you explore yourself like this? Would he be disappointed in you? Or does he do it himself? Naked in his bed with his thigh muscles flexing as he feels what you are feeling right now? No, don’t think about him like that. 

Your thighs fall out to the sides on their own accord. You find the spot that makes you gasp softly, the night way too quiet for you to be making such a noise when others are sleeping soundly. You tip your head back to open your throat, hoping it will make you quieter as you play with the sensation between your legs. Are the Gods watching you? Are they the only ones who can understand the complexities of your mortal longings? Can they tell you what will happen on the other side of this tightening in your gut? 

Your breath quickens, shallow puffs of air coming out as you near the pinnacle quicker than ever. A noise close to the sound of a hurt animal escapes your lips and your fingers start to move in earnest, quickly back and forth over the little nub that you think is far too small to have such an effect on the rest of your body. How are you so soon covered in a sheen of sweat? How is your soul already teetering on ripping from your body, a mere vessel?

“Ah,” you moan a little louder, catching it in your throat by biting down on your lip. You feel the pleasurable buildup gradually increase in intensity and suddenly you’ve rolled around onto your front to grind your pelvis up and down on your fist. 

Marcus. Marcusmarcusmarcusmar—

No. Clarity comes to you right before you lose it, fear too as it feels like your spirit might leave your body completely. You force yourself to stop your hips’ rapid movements against your hand, surprised at how quickly the sensation of something so unfathomable can ebb away from your grasp. It leaves both a physical and emotional ache. You pant against the bed, nearly creating a damp spot where your mouth rests against the linen. 

You roll onto your back once more, wiping your slick fingertips on the sheets before pulling your tunic back into place around your thighs. You suddenly start to freeze, the air from outside your window starting to cool down the sweat on your skin. 

It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to drop again. Tomorrow, you will marry Marcus Acacius and a new chapter will begin - a chapter where the tingling ache between your legs will belong to him - but for now, you let the fatigue of managing to hold off lull you to sleep. 

You pull the covers up to your chin, feeling smaller like this but it doesn’t comfort you like it did when you were a mere child. You cannot stop the tears that spring to your eyes, starting as a tightening in your chest, a thick swallowing, only to come out in quiet sobs. 

You feel the drops slide down your face, running freely down to the sides of your cheekbones and over your ears. Your hair dampens slightly, your nose grows stuffy and sensitive but despite all the telltale signs of your distress, there’s mainly relief as you let go to cry harder about your new life.

.

.

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[2tarbell]

sneaking around with rafe while dating jj

warnings! cheating, mentions/descriptions of piv sex, pogue!reader rafe mentions reader being a girl, daddy kink (mentioned), slight dacryphilia, pogue/kook talk, sneaky-link!rafe

563 words. headcannons/drabble. © 2tarbell 2024.

being with jj for as long as you have meant you were secure and happy in the relationship. except you really weren’t. you allowed him to parade you around and play the part of doting girlfriend, but in truth you couldn’t even remember the last time you two had been intimate. which is what caused you to seek out something new, someone new. rafe was happy as a clam to step up in the way the blond pogue couldn’t.

he was cocky in this endeavor; feeling a surge of masculine pride at the thought of being better than jj in just another way. it helped that you were one of the prettiest things he’s ever laid eyes on, shocked that the pogue was able to even bag you. he made sure to tell you such when your legs were on his shoulders and he was giving you his all.

now you couldn’t even remember your boyfriends name as rafe bent you in all directions, sliding into your heat easily, tsking at the slickness between your thighs, an evil smirk gracing his pink lips. his voice low and sultry as he teased you for it, only adding to the glistening wetness.

“shiiit… so fuckin’ wet... tsk, this all f’me, baby? best dick of your life, huh?”

and it was without a doubt. rafe had you feeling things and orgasming in ways you couldn’t even comprehend. he was a vision, truly. who could blame you?

as if the sex wasn’t enough to keep you coming back, the tender way he began to hold you definitely was. somewhere along the line, rafe stopped hitting it exclusively from the back and shoving your face into his mattress, expensive sheets stained from your running mascara. no, now he wanted to see you as fucked you senseless. needed to.

his brow creased and mouth agape, watching in awe as your eyes welled with tears from the immense pleasure, collecting on your bottom lash line. he pulsed inside of you when the tears began to roll in hot, fat globs down your cheeks, dazzling pearls attesting to the way he was making you come undone. it was beautiful. you were beautiful.

jj didn’t deserve you; rafe found himself thinking that more and more lately.

his hair hanging in his eyes as he laid on top of you, toned hips rolling deliberately into you. you’d take his dangling chain between your teeth, trying to anchor yourself as you whined and writhed beneath him. the sound of your connecting bodies downright nasty. he shuddered as you cried out, calling him “daddy” and begging for more.

missonary quickly became rafes favorite position to fuck you in. getting to look at your pretty face as he destroyed you never got old. neither did the sweet whispers of devotion he’d murmur into your ear. velvet voice making promises neither of you dared to speak of once you got your releases. there was a delicate balancing act to this arrangement between you both.

“y’so perfect, you know that? best pussy i’ve ever— fuck— ever had. only girl i want.”

it didn’t matter what was said as he was inside of you, your walls hugging him so perfectly, he can’t believe you weren’t made just for him.

as you clawed at his back, arching and shuddering against him, he was beginning to think that maybe you were.

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

[hitomisuzuya]

AAAAAHHH HI HOW ARE YOU GRAAAH SORRY ABOUT MY LAST REQ I MEANT READER NOT USER

CAN YOU DO A NSFW WITH NAWASHI (SHIBARI ARTIST) SCARA WHO DOES SOME REALLY COMPLEX STUFF ON READER THEN THEY DO THE BANG BANG ‼️‼️ 😋

THANK YOU I LOVE YOUR WORKS AAAAH

- 🎧

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Bondage/Shibari. Breeding kink. Cream pie. Fingersucking. Modern AU.

Hi dear❤️ Sorry it took so long and thank you as always for the delicious request. I love writing bondage and it isn't requested a lot from me.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from Scaramouche's fingers as he worked. They looked so fluid, so expert, so suckable as he tied and looped the ropes around you. How he took his time, and how thorough he was being really went a long way to show that he took pride in his work.

Your legs were bent and spread, your ankles tied to your thighs in a variety of intricate knots. He took extra care tying your wrists to your ankles. The more complicated he got with tying and securing the knots, the harder he got.

You look so vulnerable, and delicate. Completely at his mercy. You were a vision of erotic submission. All bound up, your pussy wet and ready for him.

Scaramouche noticed you staring, and smirked. "Here," He said, offering you his index and middle finger, "Suck while I double check these knots," He pushed his fingers into your eager mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth suctioning wet around them as you sucked.

You let out happy, muffled moans as he pressed on your tongue, pumping them in and out of your mouth.

Something first, though. Scaramouche took his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your tongue to his fingers. "You good?" You nodded. "The knots aren't too tight?" You shook your head. "Any pain?" You shook your head again, offering him a soft, reassuring smile that made his heart skip beats.

"Tch," He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. He grasped your jaw, squeezing it a little. "Now answer me verbally, slut. Do you want me?"

You shivered under the sudden, heavy wet of his dominance. Your cheeks flushed adoringly, his degradation making you wetter, and your clit throb and swell. "Yes, I want you. My body aches for your cock," Goosebumps rose in the wake of his fingers as they trailed down your stomach and between your legs.

He traced the shape of your pussy, rubbing the tip of his finger on your clit. His ministrations spurred the throbbing in your clit. You whined softly, struggling to move your hips up to grind your clit on his finger.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "S-so much I can hardly stand it," Your words were breaking into moans, pleasure starting to curl and jolt through your body.

He stroked his cock while he watched you struggle. He teased his finger at your hole, groaning softly feeling it clench around his finger tip. He laughed hearing your whine of protest when he withdrew his finger. He replaced it with his cock, rubbing it between your folds.

Scaramouche laughed softly, the head of his leaking cock rubbing on your clit. "What a little slut you are," He groaned huskily, "already so wet just from watching me tie you up."

His teasing was so cruel and he relished in it. There was a pitch of desperation in your moans. "What do you say, kitten?" He purred in delight, pushing the tip of his cock a little inside of you, further teasing you.

You gasped in pleasure as he reached up to pinch and play one of your nipples for extra stimulation. "P-Please! Please, I want you s-so bad," You stumbled over your words, your thighs shaking as he pushed his cock inside of you.

When his cock was half way inside of you, Scaramouche bottomed out with a harsh snap of his hips. His cock abruptly hitting your sweet spot tore a pornographic moan from your throat.

"Fuck," He moaned shakily, "You are this wet, but still so tight. What a fucking whore," The tight warmth of your walls clutching and clenching snug around his cock was a dizzying sensation. "I'll breed you full of my cum for your subservience."

Scaramouche's mouth watered in anticipation of filling your stuffed, messy cunt with his cum. Of seeing it seep around his cock while he bred you. There was a satisfying smack of his skin against yours, your toes curling as he angled his hips to fuck himself deeper into you.

Your mind was hazy as his cock stretched you apart. You grew more sensitive with every thrust, your eyes glazed over and hardly noticing the drool pooling from the corner of your mouth. You couldn't move, forced to feel every delicious pulse and throb of his cock. The only thing you could do was moan, unable to focus on anything but him and how good his cock felt fucking into you.

He put a hand on the back of your head, pulling on your hair. "Look at how cute you look. Dumb and drooling, impaled on my cock," He captured your lips in a messy, deep kiss.

His tongue wrestled yours into quick submission, pressing your mouth against his as he deepened the kiss. Tearing his mouth off of yours, his own moans mingled uncontrolled with yours.

At first you didn't hear yourself whimpering for him to cum inside. Scaramouche's laugh was soft and drunk sounding. He mocked your noises for a few moments. "You sound so cute when you are about to cum," He reached down to rub your clit, sending your body to tremble and quiver.

The warm knot collecting in your core came undone, his name sounding from you in a pleasured scream as your orgasm washed over you. Scaramouche leaned down to sink his teeth into your neck, supporting you against him as he chased his climax.

Cum ribboned inside of you, his body shaking above you. His mouth sucking and biting the fold of skin in his mouth did little to conceal his long, satisfied moan as he emptied his cock inside of you.

Pulling out, Scaramouche's eyes drank in the site of his cum dripping onto your cunt. He scooped some up on his finger, fingering his cum back inside of you before putting it in your mouth. "Clean it before I stuff you full again."