#Quit-Barking-At-The-Moon
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we stay winning
cpurpled fans this ones for you
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A King in the North.
Cregan Stark x wife!reader
Summary: A misunderstanding occurs between the two, resulting in Cregan doubting his ability to keep his wife happy.
Warnings: LIGHT SMUT. Fingering, anger, yelling, talks of sex, talks of cheating, making out, talks of cockwarming, ya know- the works.
A/n: this gif is so beautiful holy shit. Also- based on an ask!!
Part 2
Masterlist
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"No, but in another life, I mean," She explains as she nuzzles further into his chest.
The two sat in the Godswood and rested against the heavy bark of a tree. Cregan's cloak was wrapped around her as he tried to ignore the light scratching of the wood on his back.
"Another life? There's no point in dreaming of one, is there? I have this life, and I am eternally grateful for it," He quietly quips, as if not to disturb the nature around them. "I'm grateful for you. I don't wish for any other life than this."
She shifts in his hold to look up at him. "But that would be spoiling the fun. I know you love me and I know you love your life. But imagine that you lived a different one- what name would you want?"
Cregan gives her a look before sighing and giving in to her whims. He drew her to him as he stared up at the sky through the canopy of branches and the occasional leaves that still remained. "I'm not sure."
"Cregan-"
"-I'm considering your question. Just let me think."
It wasn't a rude scold, more of a soft chide, an assurance that he was going through with the question. She could hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over the scruff on his face.
"I used to be angry at my father for not naming me after his father."
It was a whispered declaration. Knowing Cregan as she did, odds are, no one else knew that about him. He never willingly threw out personal information like this, especially about his father who had died too early and left Cregan with a hole in his heart and all of the North to lead.
She reached up to lightly brush at his cheek. "Remind me his name."
Cregan hummed. "My grandfather? Benjen."
She admired Cregan from her place against his chest.
And Cregan knew that well. He could tell from his peripheral vision that she was doing so, but he made no motion to acknowledge it. He only stared ahead at the trees and dead grass that spanned as far as the tree line would let him.
But the feeling of her light breaths against his jaw and her fingers across his cheek were almost too much to ignore.
They had been married for a few moons now, and in that time, they had indulged themselves in the other quite well and quite often, but he still found that he could never have enough of her.
So he dared to meet her eye.
She had a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. A kind that was not lustful per se, but still made his cheeks a bright red every time he saw it.
Admiration, maybe?
Her fingers still danced across his cheek as her eyes slowly took in his face, starting with eyes and wandering down, taking extra time at his lips. "I would consider you more of a Torrhen," she admittedly so softly, he barely registered it.
A breath escaped him and his a small spark lit in his eyes. "Torrhen, you say?"
She nods, her eyes now shamelessly admiring his lips. "Yes. You could be a king, couldn't you?"
"Fu…" he trails off in a breath. His large hand grabs hers, pulling her hand down to his lips. He kisses her palm, trying not to get too caught up in the sight of her watching him do so.
He then pulls her hand down to his chest as a way to ground the two. "Careful, sweet girl. You speak of treason so openly."
She doesn't let this go. "Few know the implications of calling you such a name."
He considers her words. "I suppose. But still." He tilts her head up to look at him. "No more talks of rulers besides our Queen. Understand me?"
"You know I only jest."
"I do. But I'd hate for such words to get to someone without understanding of your wit."
"Of course. I understand." She pushed herself up, brushing her lips against his. "Torrhen Stark."
He let out a low groan, trying to control the way his body reacted to her words. He couldn't help leaning in just enough to try to connect their lips.
She got up quickly, managing to get out of his arms due to his guard being down.
He reached out to try to grab her at the last second, but she was too quick. "Little minx."
She grinned widely, pulling the cloak around herself. "I'll see you at Winterfell."
He told himself he just didn't wish to scold her, but in all honesty, he adored the nickname. It stirred something in him.
…
A few weeks had passed since then, and winter was approaching closer by the day.
That meant Cregan had less and less time with his wife.
It had began to wear on the poor man, the stress getting the best of him. Dark circles were always under his eyes during this time of year.
The time away from Cregan had hurt her as well, but it showed in different ways.
The time spent together every night was now spent apart.
He spent every night stuck at a desk with various letters and scribes around him as he began to prepare for his trek to the Wall.
She spent every night in a very different manner.
…
"My lord," A hushed voice came through the door. "My lord!"
He would usually send away whoever it was, but he hesitated this time. "Enter."
The door opened and his wife's handmaiden walked in. His full attention moved to her as he stood. She would only be here if it was something involving his wife.
"I… Forgive me, my lord. I've not entered on hopeful circumstance."
His blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
"It's… a personal matter of my lady. She has no knowledge of my being here."
Cregan's weight shifted from foot to foot. "Speak."
"It's the fourth night now. I thought of it as nothing at first, but the fourth night now means I owe it to you to tell you."
He was growing frustrated. "Speak," he growled.
"I believe she is bringing another man into her bed, my lord."
Cregan said nothing. He was frozen, as if the northern air had finally gotten to the burly man. "W… What?"
The handmaiden had never heard the Warden of the North sound unsure of himself. It made her feel guilty for having to be the one to tell him.
"How do you know?" His broken voice asked.
"I've heard… noises from the chambers. If it is true, my lord, the man would have to come from the balcony, for when I am not present, a guard is at least there at the door. And I've spoken to him. He says he'd never let a soul by without telling you."
He wrung his hands nervously, a trait that was foreign to him. "Leave me with my thoughts."
She lowered her head. "I am truly sorry, my lord."
"If it happens again, you are ordered to tell me."
"Of course. G'night, Lord Stark."
The door shut and Cregan slumped in his chair, an exhaustion overtaking him like never before.
…
A few more hours passed before he couldn't find himself able to focus on the papers anymore.
He dropped his quill down with a huff and abandoned the table completely, moving to his shared chambers.
His hand paused on the handle of the door as he felt the pitiful look from the guard.
He didn't want pity.
Cregan Stark fucking hated pity.
He threw the door open, partly hoping to see the man who was killing him from the inside out, but he was met with his side of the bed empty and a slumbering wife on her own.
He stepped to her side of the bed, running a hand over her hair, jealous of the warmth that radiated off of her in waves.
He shook his head and dressed for the night, fighting with himself whether to hold her closer or keep her further away.
…
The next morning, she woke up to a loud noise, prompting her to sit up in alarm.
"Cregan?"
The man mentioned looked up from his work. "Hmm?"
"What are you doing?"
Thick boards were now being nailed into the walls of the balcony doorway, the sun barely visible through the ones already done.
He shrugged. "Fixing something." He looked between the boards and her eyes, trying to catch something. A slip of any kind. "Is this a bother to you?"
"Well, only to my sleep." She wanted to complain and ask him to do it later in the day, but he valued what time he did have to be in the room, and she'd never ask him to change it.
"Oh, I imagine it will be," he muttered softly and began to loudly pound another nail in.
She didn't care enough to question more of his antics, getting up and throwing a decent enough cloak over herself and leaving the room to start her day.
Cregan's eyes followed her, and a guilt only then began to gnaw at him.
She gave him no reaction. Nothing. She had nothing to hide, it would seem. Still, he wouldn't take the chance.
He wouldn't let another man come in and do the one thing meant for him. Just his.
Wardens for the North will come and go, but no one would touch her if he had any say.
Insecurity was something the Stark had never encountered before, and it terrified him.
But before he could dwell on it for too long, he forced another nail into the board.
…
Because of his earlier shenanigan, Cregan had neglected the work he needed to truly be doing, making his night even longer than it already was.
Every second filled him with more and more dread as he waited to see if her handmaiden would appear.
And surely enough, she did.
"My lo-"
The words couldn't be uttered, the door not fully opened before Cregan threw his chalice against the wall and stormed passed the spooked woman.
He'd kill the very man who dared to look at his wife.
He'd kill whoever let him pass.
He tried not to think of how angry, above all else, he was at her.
Because that anger was only sadness, almost to the point of tears when he considered it.
What had he done wrong? He knew his time with her was not much during the winter, but resorting to finding pleasure from another man entirely? It made him sick.
He didn't realize how fast he was walking until he stood outside of the chamber doors.
The guard looked at him with a grimace. It was clear that this time, Cregan was coming in at just the right time.
He'd have to apologize to her guard for having to listen to that for so long.
"Ah-" then a long, breathy groan sounded from beyond the door. "Oh, g- oh, Tor-"
He threw the door open, not caring for the thud or the way he worried it may come of the old hinges.
But he freezes up as soon as he sees what laid inside of the room.
His pretty little wife laid across the furs of their bed in one of Cregan's tunics, the fabric puddling around her due to its size. But that's not the part that caught his attention.
It was her middle and ring fingers that she had pushed deep inside of her, her hand covered in her juices.
Seems she had froze as well, for her hand was completely still and her eyes were now on his in a horrified expression.
His breath caught in his throat. "W-Wife?" He asked hesitantly.
She slowly pulled her fingers out of her, and Cregan felt his pants tighten. She then sat up. The tunic covered more of her than he wanted, and what wasn't, she covered by pulling her legs up. She took in a sharp breath, "Forgive me."
She was beginning to cry.
But Cregan was still frozen. His mind was struggling to comprehend it all.
"I-" she sniffled. "I was getting so lost without your touch. I… I should have waited. A good wife would wait. Not do it all herself. That would be selfish," she looked up at him. "Wouldn't it?"
The sight of her frightened confession and shaking body snapped him back to. He pushed himself toward the foot of the bed. "I… I don't think it is," he whispered.
He tried to ignore her fingers as they fiddled with the strings at the top of the tunic.
"You looked so angry."
He gritted his teeth and looked back at the door, as if he could see the event that happened only moments before. "I was."
"At me," she clarified.
"No," he chastised. But this didn't clear everything up. He forced himself to not get lost in her pitiful eyes. "Whose name was that on your lips?"
"Hmm?" She seemed lost, as if he had asked a stupid question.
His head ticked to the side. "Don't do that. Whose name was that?"
"Yours," she said as if it was obvious.
"Don't lie," he growled. He couldn't help it as much as he tried. His heavy steps moved him to around the bed to her side now. "Look at me."
She forced her head up, tears now streaming down her face.
"Whose. Name. Do you moan. When I'm away?"
"Yours," she began to sob. "I only think of you!"
His anger only grew. He grabbed her jaw and leaned over her. It was an impending sight to see such a large man tower over a smaller woman in her bed. "I'll give you one more chance before I give up entirely. I'll not have a marriage built of lies."
"Cre-" she hiccuped. "Cregan, you're frightening me."
"I know, but I need the truth."
She now understood the fear in the eyes of his enemies when Cregan entered a room.
He was a frightening sight when he wished to be.
"If you didn't like the name, you should have said so," she whispered.
It clicked in his mind.
Fuck.
He pulled away as if burned, and stalked to the doorway, poking his head out to the guard. "Tell me the name you've heard these last nights."
"I-I believe it was Torrhen, my lord."
"Fuck!" Cregan yelled out to no one in particular.
He brought his head into his hands, making himself take deep breaths.
"You're dismissed for the night."
"My lo-"
"Get. Out."
Cregan shut the door, softly the time.
He turned to see the woman bawling on the furs of their shared bed. "I owe you more apologies than my words can describe."
She shook her head, her clean hand wiping back and forth, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Don't. I was selfish. I'm a horrid wife to you."
"I'm not angry at you," he persisted.
She paused and looked up at him. "What then?"
"They told me you were unfaithful to me, and I panicked. And all this time you've-" He sighed. "You've only been busy with yourself."
When she said nothing, he continued. "Moaning the name of another man?" He chuckled lightly, "Another man, my arse." He looked down at her, seeing that the tears were beginning to stop. He grabbed her other hand, only still barely wet with her moisture, and he cursed at the sweet thought of what he had truly walked in on. "Do these pleasure you as well as I can?"
She shook her head.
He nodded. "I can imagine. You should have only asked, my love."
"You're busy-"
"And you can keep me company," he teased as he sat down next to her. He nipped at her ear, "You can always rest on my cock while I work."
She let out a gasp at that, her hiccups now moving into small laughs.
"Would you do that?" He tried again. "Would you warm my cock while your king works?"
His words were beginning to have an effect on her.
"Hmm?" He asked, trying for an answer. "Would that keep such an eager woman at bay? I need an answer from you, sweet girl."
Her mouth opened a few times, only to close again. Finally, she only nodded.
"Good. Now, if you decide to forgive me- Make yourself decent and join me, hmm? You'll find that your king may request your presence if you take too long."
He could see the light come back to her eyes.
"I'll be waiting," he said as he kissed her temple and moved out of the room.
...........................................
A/n: a part 2 is in order 👀
Edit: Here's part 2!!!
Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname
#fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark x you#cregan stark x reader#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x y/n#cregan stark x y/n#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#cregan stark imagine#cregan x reader#cregan stark#cregan fanfiction#cregan x you#cregan x y/n#cregan stark smut#cregan stark fanfic#hotd cregan#game of thrones fic
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a marauders guide to siblings
Sirius Black x Potter!reader + moonwater + jily [1.4k words]
CW: fem!reader, reader is James' twin, siblings
James loved love. Like, if someone were to ask James what his favourite thing was, first he would say quidditch, then he would say pranking, then he’d probably say his beautiful girlfriend Lily, and then he would absolutely without a doubt say love.
Oh, and maybe also he’d say ABBA, but the order wasn’t important, alright? The point was: James loved love.
So, once the rest of his mates found partners of their own (save Peter), he immediately began begging them for a triple date. But for as mischievous as his friends were, they were equally (if not painfully more) stubborn.
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“Please!?”
“I said no, James.” Remus sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; and sure, perhaps cornering him in the hospital wing following a full moon when he had nowhere to run nor hide from James’ pestering wasn’t very couth of James, but in James’ defence, he-
“POTTER.” Regulus barked from the door to the hospital wing that he just burst through, completely ignoring the reproachful shushing from the matron. “I swear to Salazar if you do not step away from my boyfriend, I-”
Except James never got to hear what Regulus planned on doing if he did not step away from his boyfriend because James - a smart man - chose that moment to shout “promise me you’ll think about it, moons!” before fleeing from the room.
It had gone just about the same with Sirius.
“No can do, Prongsie boy.” Sirius drawled without looking up from his study notes.
“And just why not?” James spat, obviously having had it up to here with his sodding no good best friends anyone could ever ask for.
Sirius hummed as he looked off into the distance like he was giving this question actual thought. “Oh, right. Because I don’t want to.” He deadpanned.
“Why not.”
“James.” Sirius hissed as he sat up straighter, eyeing the librarian who was eyeing the two infamous marauders right back. “I have no interest in sitting at a table with my brother as he makes googly eyes at my best friend, nor-” he paused as he held his hand up when James went to interject, “do I want to sit at a table with my girlfriends brother as I make googly eyes at her.”
“Then just don’t make googly eyes at my sister.” James hissed back, earning him a scoff.
“Have you seen your sister? That’s impossible.”
“Eugh.”
“See.” Sirius accused, raising a knowing eyebrow at him. “I’m not doing it.”
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But if there was one thing James hated in equal measure as he loved love, it was quitting.
And in case that wasn’t clear; James hated quitting.
“Oh good, you’re all here.” You announced robotically as you approached Remus, Regulus, Lily, and Sirius at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
“You alright, Potter?” Regulus questioned slowly, looking between Sirius and Remus concernedly as they both let out a groan.
“What now?” Sirius muttered as he pinched the space between his brows.
“I’m supposed to say…” you continued, pausing to pull a cue card from your pocket and reading directly from it. “As you all know, the wonderful and momentous anniversary of James Fleamont Potter’s birth is approaching-”
You hardly spared a breath for the unimpressed snort from Remus at the fact that you and James shared a sodding birthday.
“-and his one wish - in place of any gifts - is for all of us to accompany him to one triple date at The Three Broomsticks on the next Hogsmeade weekend.” You finished, only looking up at the group when you finished reciting your script before pocketing it again.
“What exactly do you get out of this arrangement?” Lily asked as she leaned back in her chair.
“A triple date?” You answered in the form of a question.
“What do you really get out of this?” Remus asked with a laugh.
“James promised me an unlimited amount of jelly slugs for the rest of the school year.” You offered bashfully.
“Oh.” Sirius groaned theatrically before pulling you into his lap. “My poor sweet girl, being coerced by means of sweets.” He cooed pathetically into your hair.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?!” James shrieked excitedly as he appeared out of bloody fucking no where.
“Circe’s fucking tits.” Regulus hissed as he clutched at his chest.
Sirius scoffed as he removed one arm from around your waist to gesture at his brother. “Look what you’ve done now, James; you’ve reduced my baby brother to swears and blasphemy. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Please?” James asked quietly; puppy dog eyes darting nervously between his best friends, his girlfriend, his best friend’s boyfriend, and his sister.
And finally, after months of begging and badgering and whining and pestering, James finally got his triple date.
Except…except something was bothering James…
Which was weird, because it was perfect.
James got to see Regulus smile for quite possibly the first time ever when Remus offered him a bite of his meal from his own fork and then immediately stole a kiss when Regulus wasn’t paying attention.
For as wound up and fidgety you’d been on the walk down to Hogsmeade, James watched any and all tension melt from your body the second Sirius pulled a chair out for you, situated himself in the spot next to it and threw his arm over you like that’s where it was simply meant to be.
And the sound of Lily’s bubbling laughter echoed somewhere deep in James’ rib cage every time Sirius or Remus took the piss at James’ expense.
“Oh, James, you’d really like this.” You insisted then, interrupting James from his musings as you held your plate out for him to take a helping for his own plate.
“Awe, you guys are sweet.” Lily commented before she accepted a bite from James who had, indeed, really liked what you had ordered.
“Remus is already feeding you enough over there, don’t even think about it.” Sirius called over to Regulus who was actually not thinking about it at all, thank you very much, earning him a glare from his brother.
And that’s when it hit James.
“Wait a second.” He commented, causing everyone to look at him warily. “Sirius is dating my sister,” he started, ignoring Sirius’ groan and Remus’ quiet ‘here we go’, “and Remus is dating Sirius’ brother…then what about me?”
Regulus let out an inelegant snort as Lily scoffed in offence. “What do you mean ‘what about me’!?” She shrilled.
“Prongs, listen,” Sirius whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t want to alarm you, but you’re very close to losing the girl you spent six long years trying to snag.”
But before James could blanche (or beg for Lily’s forgiveness), Remus chuckled. “Don’t worry, James. I’ll claim Lily as a sibling and then you can be dating my sister.”
“What the fuck?” Regulus muttered at the same time Lily murmured “you’ll what?” and James cheered “that’s brilliant!”.
“Why on earth would that matter?” Regulus asked, though the end of his sentence trailed off when you started shaking your head.
“It’s best not to question it, Reg.” You offered him knowingly.
“Fine.” Lily muttered, nodding her chin over at Remus. “Then you have to share your chips.”
In response, Remus lobbed one across the table, hitting her right in the forehead which started a petty sibling squabble right there in the middle of The Three Broomsticks.
“Yes.” James whispered reverently. “This is perfect.”
“Were the jelly slugs worth it then?” Sirius murmured into your cheek as James cackled at the pettiness between the pseudo-siblings and Regulus threatened to bring them all back to the castle with no dessert if they didn’t smarten up.
You smirked as you turned your face towards his, though he made no effort to create space for you which left the two of you basically nose to nose. “At least I got something out of this.”
“I got something out of this.” Sirius said easily, continuing when you raised an eyebrow at him. “I got to spend an evening with my girl. That’s worth any nonsense.”
You smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, reciprocating quickly when he greedily demanded more. “Well then, happy birthday to James Potter, I guess.”
Happy birthday to James, indeed.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius orion black#sirius black fic#sirius black blurb#Sirius Black imagine#sirius black ficlet#potter!reader#fem!reader#fluff#sirius black x fem!reader#background moonwater#background jily#ellecdc fics#siblings
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Quit barking at the moon, Laika
#Eli art#the locked tomb#Nona the ninth#Nona tlt#locked tomb fanart#locked tomb#sorry for the shoddy anatomy. I lobe her tho#harrow the ninth#you can’t take loved away….#gonna work on more asks soon!!!#revenant beast#resurrection beast#I get em confused lollll
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AHHHHHH DUDE DUDE HDHDHDHD I REFRESHED MY PAGE AND THIS WAS THE FIRST THING I SAW IM INSANE IM DJDBBD
( Not my shitty ass doodle in the corner though I’m sobbing /lh /pos)
the way you did his little ears!!! And dogchamps antenna!!!!!! AND THE PLANNETS DUDE JDBDBDBD I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my mind. Shaking you.
THANK YOU SO MYCH
//Ooc: I know I've been out of character a lot as of lately, but I promise I'll stop after this one (maybe- you never know). Though here's some Purpled art based off of @ourpl3d's Purpled. Go check them out!!
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could you pleasee do a gravity falls one shot?
so basically Bill Cipher meets the youngest Pines member but they're like 3-4 years old. And basically Bill doesn't know how to react, he's all confused but also in awe. Make it fluff and i know it's going to be hard to write this as canon Bill Cipher so you can ignore if you want <33
Bill Cipher x Child!Reader (PLATONIC)
The forest surroundcing the Mystery Shack was quiet. Somewhere between dimensions, floating lazily, was Bill Cipher, his single eye half-lidded with boredom. His typical schemes to cause chaos were on hold, and for once, he was simply… existing.
That’s when he heard it—a soft giggle, light as a feather. Bill’s eye snapped open, immediately. There, standing among the wildflowers, was a small figure with messy hair, chubby cheeks, and a bright, curious gaze.
The youngest member of the Pines family.
His eye narrows slightly. A little kid, no older than three or four, was staring right up at him. Her tiny hands gripping a stuffed animal that seemed to be some kind of hybrid between a cat and a duck—perfectly nonsensical, just the way Bill liked things.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Bill floated closer, his voice carrying its usual sarcasm. “A little ankle-biter out all alone? Shouldn’t you be with your oh-so-boring family?”
The girl tilted her head, eyes wide and sparkling with the kind of innocence Bill found really weird. She didn't seemed scared. She suddenly reaches out, poking Bill with a tiny finger in pure curiosity.
Bill’s eye widened a little in surprise. Most people who encountered him would either scream, run, or try to strike some ridiculous bargain. But this little human? She just poked him like he was some new toy.
“Hey, hey! Hands off the merchandise!” Bill exclaimed. He wondered, why wasn’t she afraid? Why wasn’t she running? And why, in all his chaotic glory, did he find this child so�� interesting?
The child giggled again, a bubbly sound that seemed to echo in Bill’s mind. She pointed at him with her free hand, her other continuing to clutching her stuffed toy close.
“Triangle!” she declared proudly, their voice high-pitched and filled with wonder.
Bill let out a bark of laughter, genuinely amused. “Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you? That’s right, kiddo. I’m a triangle, the best triangle you’ll ever meet. Got any other shapes in that little brain of yours?”
The kid smiled. They started babbling, half-formed words about god know what, pointing excitedly as if expecting Bill to just understand them. The demon was used to others feeling fear, but this… this innocent curiosity was something else.
“Alright, kid, slow down,” Bill said. “You think I can just whip up stars and moons like a party trick? You’re talking to Bill Cipher, not some street magician.”
For the first time in… well, forever, Bill felt utterly out of his element. He could outsmart the smartest, scare the toughest, and twist anyone around his finger, but this kid? She just saw him entertainig.
Bill hovered beside them, his eye following them every move. He had cought a small, harmless ball of light, flickering in and out of existence.
“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, kid,” Bill mumbled, though there was no more venom in his voice.
The girl just grinned, leaning her head against his triangular form as if he were just another friend, not a demon with a penchant for chaos. Bill let her, floating there quietly as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
For once, he wasn’t planning anything. No schemes, no deals, no manipulation. Just a strange, peaceful moment with a little human who saw him not as a threat .
And for reasons Bill couldn’t quite fathom, he didn’t mind it one bit.
#gravityfalls#gravity falls fandom#bill cipher#the book of bill#journal 3#bill cipher x reader#fluff#platonic#childreader#x child reader#bill cipher x you#headcanon#platonic relationships#child reader#gravity falls x reader#bill cipher x oc#gravity fals#gravity falls x you#fluff oneshot#platonic oneshot#oneshot#gravity falls
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vitiosus + deliciosus [vicious + delicious🥀] || pt 2 of dulcis ut rosa
emperor geta x reader || things progress for geta + his little gnat || 4k
18+ smut, oral: female receiving, choking, slapping, biting, spanking
pt 1: dulcis ut rosa m🥀 || pt 1 ½: dulex🥀
pt iii frangere me 🥀 || 🥀 pt iv: as caelum vel infernum, tecum sum
You didn’t know what was to come of you after tonight’s rendezvous in Geta’s chambers. You could hardly sleep, your body sore in places you didn’t think were possible, but not in a discomforting way.
The pain was more of an ache, a pulsating want for the time spent in his bed. You daydreamed of his strong hands pressing bruises into your hips, of his mouth hot and wet all over your skin, the bitter tang of your own blood on his lips as he licked the bites better.
Geta was a force to be reckoned with. Dominating both outside and inside of his chambers. All of Rome feared him. A flutter filled your stomach at the mere thought of those dark eyes seamlessly devouring you when you worked up enough courage to look into them. No, you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.
—
Caracalla carried on the next day pretending the previous night hadn’t happened. As if his miniscule brain shut out what he had done, carrying on with the daily run of nonsense. He smiled like a gleeful infant who had just discovered his toes at the first meal of the day. Gnawing on ripened fruit and leftover pork, he looked like a wild animal.
As if he had vanished with the night, Geta was nowhere to be seen.
During prandium, you asked a woman from your village as casually as you could manage if she had seen the missing Emperor.
Prisca turned up her nose at your question, questioning why you so desperately needed to know. Replying with a tone that matched her own, you very carefully articulated how Caracalla had asked you to find out. Ending the conversation with a clipped lip, reminding Prisca of your status to the Emperors, and hers with the lowest of soldiers ones missing limbs and their gift of sight.
Geta didn’t show for any of the day's events, giving Caracalla a taste of running the empire solo, a smear of greed on his protruding crooked nose. You were the only one to notice his absence and if the entire palace didn’t seem to take note, you’d act the same. Deciding to leave it alone, remembering the virtue in patience, you’d wait until tonight to catch his eyes in yours once again.
The sun seemed to taunt you all day with its beautiful rays, staying longer than it had the day before, never quite ready to go to sleep. The shimmering heat laughing at your dismay as you waited for the moon's powdery face to finally clock in for her shift.
You could hardly stand being in Caracalla’s arms as he held you close to him, his breath stinking of an ungodly amount of wine, making you promise that you would never leave Palatine Hill. Pleading that you’d stay with him forever until his dying day. Agreeing like a dutiful servant, you hoped and prayed that that day would come sooner than later.
—
Geta couldn’t pull himself out of bed the next day. Palace servants came and went, offering to move the drapes, karting in mountainous plates of food, but he had refused everything. Only barking orders to bring as much wine as they could carry.
Drowning himself in rivers of wine, he couldn’t remember a single time since infancy that he felt completely worthless. He was an Emperor for fucks sake. Others may succumb to feelings but not him, never him.
Maidens fell at his feet, begging for his attention. He called the shots, fucked them stupid then tossed them away like scraps. Not once had he let any of them get to a place inside of himself he couldn’t pinpoint.
He couldn’t get away from you. Your scent surrounded him, the jasmine perfume of your hair lingered on his sheets. A subtle hint of sugary sweet honey was still on his skin. He hated himself.
Loathed the love sick pup he had become in the twilight hours as he gazed at the ceiling, still tasting your core on his lips, his rings sticky and coated with it. Unwilling to remove them in fear that the tiny bit that belonged to you, created by him, would wipe away.
His hair was still askew in the same fashion you had rung it around your fingers. Cock hard again remembering the way your body felt in his hands, how that sweet little cunt gripped him tighter than anyone before.
The sheets blushed a crimson that neither of you had noticed that broke from your body. He smirked at the thought of his brother unable to make an untouched woman bleed. Clearly he was less than endowed, his size comparable to that of a dangling beetle.
Geta laid in the stains from the two of you, a complete and utter mess of a man unable to forget the sweet little gnat. No longer buzzing in his ear, but pulling at his mind, suffocating every other thought. The gnat wormed her way down into the cavity of his chest, laying against the pinky ventricles cozying up to the dying organ, coaxing it back to life.
“Cupid’s fool,” he spoke aloud then, as if he confirmed it to nobody but himself, “body and soul.” A small smirk on his lips as his feet swung from his bed heading to the bathing room to wash himself before the moon peaked in the onyx painted sky, and he met you in that corner corridor.
—
You traced the stones down the hall as you walked until the pads of your finger went numb. After not seeing or hearing from Geta all day, you questioned your sanity as you approached your typical spot as you always did night after night for months. Would he even show?
Caracalla was exceptionally gleeful this evening, an odd thing considering most of the time he cried like an infant throwing tantrums like a toddler.
Your heart raced at the possibility of seeing Geta. You’d never taken into account how handsome he was, and now without seeing him for a full day, you found yourself almost missing catching glimpses of him.
He had two looks that he offered to everyone else. Either sheer and utter boredom, fiddling with his rings in a lazy fashion— or his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and a twitch kissing the corner of his eyelid, that permanent scowl rising on his top lip.
When he entered a room, he demanded attention in just his body language, shoulders square and broad, chin held high and his jaw tight. Generals rose for him, servants leapt out of the way to avoid him until needed. He was a brute of the highest power.
But in the months of meeting him in the darkness, you had gotten to know how Geta operated. What made him tick, the fatigue wearing on his face after stressful days. The crease between his brows when you told him of Caracalla’s movements—studying, brooding.
It gave you a sense of power knowing that you were seeked out by him. Even if only for information and a wet mouth, you could feel it emanating from him to you when he came. It started roughly. But lately it was almost as if it could be intimate at times. And you weren’t sure what that meant. Either way— with Geta, you knew you were safe.
Darkness enveloped you on your blind approach to the infamous corridor. For a second, you thought possibly you were lost, somehow turned around until you heard a throat clear, and the handsome Emperor appeared before you, having been blocking the open window from view.
“Emperor, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” your lips fumbling as you bowed before him at the waist.
A chuckle rumbled from Geta, “you aren’t late, I am simply early,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve been roaming around since the light left.”
“Oh?”
He simply nodded then, twirling a ruby ring around his finger, “…I have received word that Caracalla is becoming more and more delusional. He has increased his staff, begging our mother to supply a general outside of his door while he sleeps— you’ve probably noticed Acacius following him, yes?”
The ruggedly handsome salt and pepper haired soldier flanked the aforementioned Emperor all day, but you never gave it another thought— your mind busy on Geta’s whereabouts.
“I haven’t trusted my brother since we were young boys using sticks as swords, and the older he gets the more his brain stays in our childhood.” He spoke softly then, “it is only a matter of time before your movements after leaving his chambers are tracked… and I can’t have that. This will be our last meeting.”
You nearly shouted in his face, telling him that these nights were the only thing worth being stolen away from your village. Months you have done this and now it is gone because he was… worried? About Caracalla finding out?
Geta pushed off from the wall, standing with his usual confidence—his jaw tight, a strange look on his face. “What Caracalla does not know— is that Acacius has been loyal to me for years, and has been providing me with information about him for nearly as long.”
Your eyebrows crease as you try to unravel the thread he’s woven, and a small smile ticks at the corner of his lips as realization spreads across your face. Mischievous Geta, always a step ahead.
“Join me?”
—
Geta was approached by Acacius when leaving his chambers this evening.
“Emperor,” Acacius announced, bowing his head in honor, “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”
Geta pulled his chamber door shut waving his hand in dismissal, “nonsense General, whatever it is it must be important for you to seek me out, what is it?”
“This is not easy for me to say.. I feel like a traitor to you. to these walls—”
“Out with it,” Geta pressed, irritated.
“It’s Emperor Caracalla… your excellency, I have been summoned to be posted outside his quarters and provide security for him during the daylight hours.”
Geta rubbed at his chin, a twitch in his eye, “I know you’re not one to joke on a serious matter Acacius, however this seems quite juvenile, even for my brother.”
“I assure you, he has been increasingly suspicious over the last few months, ever since that travel wagon arrived with the Virgines from Valleventus.”
Acacius gave Geta a knowing look, one to convey that he knew what happened in these walls at night once Caracalla’s whore left his chambers.
Geta smiled then, unable to hide it, his face relaxing as he clapped the General on the shoulder, “you are a great confidant, Acacius— I will take this into great consideration.”
—
The two of you strolled the corridors in silence, his knuckles grazing yours, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. You were certain that if the two of you were caught you’d be killed on sight, tossed in a deep grave without a second thought. But with Geta… you couldn’t find yourself to care about any of that. Did he?
You knew you were walking a thin line, and it got thinner the more time you spent with him. But if he was willing to walk it as well, you’d risk it… same as he was
After a few minutes, you broke the silence, “may I…ask you something?”
Geta tilted his head towards you, “yes.”
All day he had been gone, and your curiosity finally got the better of you. “Where were you?”
He smirks and your insides melt, “were you looking for me, little dulex?”
You turn away from his gaze, fumbling with a loose thread on your tolsa, “n-no. Caracalla had asked me.”
A laugh bubbles from his chest, “I am not fond of being lied to, try again.”
Sweat drips from your hairline, “He…well, he inquired about it...”
“Ah, so you were only wondering about my whereabouts when Caracalla finally noticed I was missing?”
“Yes.”
He stopped before a large set of doors and pushed them open revealing a large room, suffocated by darkness. You felt him leave your side to cross the room, and suddenly it illuminated by a candle he had lit. Gently tipping the flame into a massive candelabra, each wick of the candle igniting like a little orb, throwing shadows across the room.
It was one of the many rooms you’d never seen before.
A single staircase wove upwards with great iron detailing to a room above, a desk as large as a wagon was centered in the room, pictures of faces you didn’t recognize flanked the walls, the floors were spread of mosaic tiles: shaped and colored to resemble a salmon colored sunset. An open area let in a small breeze that trickled out into a luscious garden where a fountain could be heard bubbling, brought in by the wind. Luxurious armchairs were tucked into corners.
This room shared the same color of draperies as a room you’ve only been to once before. The dark hues set a mood that belonged to one singular man. This was a private area that even the highest generals weren’t even allowed in. Geta’s study.
He came back towards you, grasping your wrist, his thumb pressing into your beating pulse, his eyes lit like a roaring fire, “last chance, to be honest, were you the one looking for me?”
Hesitating with your breath caught in your throat, you peered into Geta’s seemingly soulless eyes, whispering, “yes,” as a heat rose on your cheeks.
A smirk pulls on his lip, and a dimple you’ve never seen appears, “oh, my puella dulcis,” he purred, shaking his head, those dark eyes hungry as he looked you up and down, “you’re in trouble.”
He pulled you to him, his large hands on your waist leading you further into the room as he walked backwards. “Do you know the pure agony you’ve put me through?”
“Me?”
Geta nods, pushing the straps of your tolsa away from your shoulders, admiring the marks he had left on your skin.
“Yes. You.” he says, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb. “It is nefarious the hold you have over me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Death would be easier on me. A sword between my ribs to puncture my lungs, the festering boils from a plague, an arrow through my eye— anything and everything would be better than what you do to me.”
His hand clasps tight around your neck, the gasp you let out trapped in your throat.
“So, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with someone who keeps causing me this much trouble? Who risks herself being caught by seeking me out? Who is, dare I say, worried about my well-being?”
He slides his hand up and down the length of your neck, his other stroking your cheek resting his thumb on the crease of your lips.
“I punish my soldiers for much less, and as any great warrior, I shall be fair by keeping all of my subjects to the highest of standards, you unfortunately, are not exempt.”
One minute you’re standing in front of him the next you’re being yanked by your wrist as he stomps towards one of the large chaise lounges, he sits abruptly and pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, the feel of his erection making you whine pathetically.
He holds you by your hips and twists you around, until your face is level with the ground, your ass resting over his knees.
The sound of unbinding thread pops in your ears as Geta rips your tolsa away from you, leaving you bare, your ass on display like a holiday feast.
“I’ve never gazed upon an ass as round and fat as yours, and believe me when I say this my puella dulcis, I will thoroughly enjoy watching it burn in scarlet as it bounces beneath my hand.”
You don’t have a second to comprehend his words before a large ringed hand is slapped hard across your backside, causing you to shriek in surprise and pain.
“Fuck,” Geta spit, “we’ve barely just begun, you should be pissing with glee that I don’t keep my horse whip in my study.” Two more licks rip out and you moan.
He laughs wickedly, his sultry voice shushing you as he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. “Enjoying this are you? I’ve heard stories from soldiers and even my own father about the whores during their time, how they begged, fucking pleaded to be hit on the ass by a man.”
Geta slaps his hand down hard more and more until you’d lost count. That same scorching feeling in your lower belly and the wetness between your legs just like last night came back, and you moaned.
Humming between your lips, you relished in the ache in your back as you tried to hold yourself up. Trying to wiggle forward so maybe his hand would slip and miss your ass but touch down where you needed him most.
But you didn’t need to ask, Geta laughed through his nose before slipping his thumb through your wet cunt, groaning at the heat of your arousal on his fingers again.
“What a tight fucking cunt you have,” he grunted before rubbing your clit, “ filtjy girl—looks like those legends were true, weren’t they?”
“Please,” you begged, trying to swallow his fingers with your dripping pussy.
Your small pleads tore through him, his cock answering with a twitch as it leaked. He brought you up your throat, holding you in place and moving your hips along the stiff ridge of his length.
Geta sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder as you moaned, “can you feel what you do to me?” he whispered, “the torture you put me through, the hours I spend like this with nothing but you trapped in my head. It’s murderous.”
Purring his name he groans, licking sweat from your neck. “I haven’t had a single hour since the first night we met without having this happening without needing to release myself. Do you think I can be a leader to my people with such indecency? As if I’m a young boy discovering his own body and the feel of his hand again. You’re a snake, filled with poisonous venom to come here and kill me.”
He rips your clothes completely off, wiggling his middle finger against your clit, praising the gods at the angel like whine that whispers from your lips.
“… and like the gnat, the snake has bit me, feasting upon my flesh, constantly hungry. But it is I who is left hungry by your tormenting ways,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it, “and right now, I’m starving.”
Geta hoists you up in his arms, kissing your neck and squeezing your skin wherever he can reach as he walks to the enormous desk full of scrolls. With one mighty hand holding you, he swipes the desk clean, tossing everything that was once organized onto the floor.
He lays you down on the wooden top, your bare back riddling with goosebumps from the cool hard surface. Looking up at him this was the first you’ve seen his face since first entering his study.
His eyes were black, wide and wild, the candle light throwing shadows onto his face making him look monstrous. Like a creature straight from the dark world, one from a story told to children at night to scare them enough to not leave their beds.
Anyone else would run at the sight of such a man. Scream and claw their way from him, but not you. You simply opened your knees wider, showing the dripping wetness to him, what he did to you.
Geta simply watched. Watched and breathed heavily like a predator before leaping to attack his prey. He stared as you sucked a finger into your mouth, he almost flatlined as you brought that spit soaked finger down the length of your body, your nipples pebbling.
He swore he met death when you slipped that glorious finger into your cunt, and gently pumped it in and out.
“This,” you murmured weakly, unable to contain your moans, “is what you do to me.”
He groaned, practically drooling at you laid out before him. You tipped your head back as a small gasp rippled through you. Lifting your shoulders from the desk you looked him in the eyes, “I guess we are both demented, enjoying the torture from eachother.”
“I didn’t want to admit it,” Geta blurted, his dark eyes piercing the night, scaring away the shadows. “All day I wrestled with it, how you could make me quiver like a lovesick boy. I turned away meals, laying in the darkness, surrounded by your bewitching scent.”
“If you’re so hungry,” you whisper seductively, opening your legs wider, your arousal shining in the candlelight as you remove your fingers from inside of yourself, “then by all means, eat.”
Geta didn’t wait another second before pulling you forward by the crook of knees, your welted red ass skirting across the desk. You giggled as he feverishly lowered himself and held your thighs wide, “keep these open for me.”
His tongue was like an eel.
Geta flicked his tongue at a dangerous pace against your clit, groaning into your sex as you whined his name again and again. His licked and sucked your cunt as ravenous as a truly starved man, his moans vibrating your walls, sending your nerve endings into a liquid fired frenzy.
You’d never experienced anyone’s tongue between your legs, but this was better than anything you’d ever imagined, nothing compared to the way your body electrified beneath his hands, his mouth.
Geta’s nose rubbed against your clit as he lapped up your arousal. The burn in your belly seared and unraveled as you screamed out his name, your body rigid and then uncoiling as your muscles spasmed and quaked.
Your hands wrapped in a death grip in his hair, holding him tight to your pussy as you came, Geta encouraging you through the pleasure.
“Fuck, look at you,” he said, admiring the way you leaked and dripped on his desk, “taste so fucking good, this cunt belongs to me,” he breathed.
It was lust and vicious desire emanating from him as he spoke. and you melted at the desperate way you craved him. Grabbing him by the nape of his neck you pressed your lips to his, tasting your arousal on his tongue, you felt drunk
He hauled your weak body up in his arms, murmuring something about wobbly legs. Geta kissed your forehead as he climbed the spiral steps that lead straight into his chambers. His bed was made, but the smell of sex was still lingering from the night before.
Geta laid you down on his massive bed, careful of the marks on your backside from his hand. You watched as he undressed, his arms showing protruding veins like a river in the fallen snow. A deep scar you didn’t recognize before on his torso, identical to the one on his neck. His eyes seemed to look softer, a deep honey simmering, catching the light.
When he spoke it wasn’t with malice it was with truth, “you are mine. Understand? Not Caracalla’s, not anyone else’s, I will slaughter any man who challenges that.”
Your heart races as you stare at him, rising to your knees in front of him, “promise?”
“Meus amor,” Geta speaks, holding your chin with his finger, “that is my veritas, I give you my word.”
You stroked his hair as you pulled him down to the bed on top of you. Pressing his curls back into an unruly position, you admire the handsome Emperor. Your Emperor.
Pressing your lips to his, you pull him deeper, swirling your tongue with his in a frenzied tango. His hips respond to your open legs and his cock slides in with ease, fitting like a sword in a sheath.
“You are a wicked one, my dulcis.” Geta pants in your ear as his hips pick up a butchering rhythm. Your combined breathing is ragged, choked and gasping.
Biting his ear he hisses, but you lick it better, the same as he did to you last night, only a drop of his blood on your tongue as you whisper, “then we are one in the same, destinatum ease, destined to be.”
With that he flips you both over, guiding your hips up and down, forward and back as helps you ride his cock. When you both cum it’s loud, skin slapping skin, your arousal pooling around his cock, his fucked deep inside of you.
Laying in the sweaty, sin stained sheets, you twirl a finger in Geta’s hair, his head laying on your bare chest between your tits, his hand holding your ribs. “Tomorrow I will have the servants change the sheets while I bathe you in my private pool.”
“Is my Geta turning sweet?” you tease, “what will Rome think?”
Turning his head those ravenous eyes were painted in the midnight onyx that they usually were, returning with mischief laced in the irises, a devilish smirk on his lips.
He moved like a serpent, biting your right nipple between his teeth and tugging, causing you to squeal in a pleasured pain that is snuffed out by his large hand around your throat.
“Do not be fooled pretty girl,” the villainous flames flickered again in his eyes, a feral twitch on his lips that made you wet between your legs, “malevolence coats my veins thicker than blood.”
—
latin translation:
vitiosus + deliciosus — vicious + delicious
prandium— lunch
puella dulcis— sweet girl
meus amor— my love
veritas— truth
destinatum ease— destined to be
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#emperor geta x you#emperor geta x reader smut#emperor geta smut#geta x you#emperor geta x reader#emperor geta fanfic#geta fanfic#gladiator 2 fanfiction#joseph quinn
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toxic but in love fwb!simon with some hurt/comfort
“i know your gala is important, si, but can’t you come? just this once i just want-“ you were wringing your hands, twisting them into unfamiliar shapes as you argued with simon, your situationship. you two were always like this, pushing and pulling at the boundaries of your relationship. moon and tide, destined to move each other but never close enough. “we’re not dating an’ i have a work thing. can’t come.” he shrugged nonchalantly, turning his head so he couldn’t see the pleading look on your face. instead, he pushed himself off your couch and reached for his jacket by the door. the silence in the air turned sour, some dark ugly thing created by him. his heart was a dead thing inside his chest, unable to muster a beat or two for you. he wanted to. a want so deep it ran in his blood, turning him cold. “fine. see you in six months or whatever.” your voice was stony, bitter. you reached for the tv remote and unpaused the show you two were watching, trying not to care about the sounds of him lacing his boots and grabbing his keys. you were done, done with this tug of war. you felt his stare drill through the side of your head as he put on his mask, the final bit to his ensemble. he might think that’s what got him named ghost, but it was really this, this act of playing human when he just didn’t care. he was a poltergeist in your life, knocking things out of order but refusing to show when it mattered. you were done.
one night later and here you were at your first art show, the debut of your career. dressed in your fanciest attire, second glass of champagne in your hand as you tried to network your way through the room. your feet ached from your shoes and there was an itch in your back you couldn’t quite reach, but you put on your best smile as another potential buyer went on and on about their summer in the hamptons. simon wasn’t here but it was fine. the tears you had been swallowing back for the past thirty minutes were just tears of joy at your accomplishments, nothing more. you thanked the buyer and turned the corner, finishing off your glass as you took a much needed break. suddenly a hush went over the crowd, a slight silence broken by a small quip. the room went back to normal but you went to check it out anyways, hoping it wasn’t someone making a bad comment about your work.
you arrived at the entrance and almost passed out at the sight before you. four men-no, machines, dressed in full military regalia stood in front of you. soap and gaz were already working the crowd while price was entertaining one of your donors, but your eyes were focused on ghost. ghost, who traded his balaclava for a more crowd-friendly medical mask, stood in front of you with a bouquet of carnations and a bottle of wine. you approached him slowly like you would a skittish animal, taking patient, methodical steps. “read carnations are for celebrations.” he said, almost sheepishly, as he mechanically thrust the bouquet towards you. you took it out of instinct, eyes still focused on his. “you came?” you said unbelievingly. simon was here, simon brought his friends, simon brought you gifts? he had to have been drugged or something. there was no way. “you called.” he answered, breaking out of his awkwardness. “‘m sorry for yesterday. knew i was coming, jus’ gave you a hard time. had to celebrate my girl’s first show.” your mouth dropped at that. my girl. “but…but we’re not dating?” you took a step forward, the rest of the room falling away as his gloved hand touched your cheek, brushing back the wrinkles on your forehead. “d’ya want to, lovie? was at this gala all night, thinkin’ bout how fun it would’ve been to have you there with me. makin’ fun of all those puffed up generals.” you let out a small chuckle and his back straightened, encouraged by the sound of your laughter. he loved the sounds of your laughter, your drunk giggles and your loud snorts. most especially he loved the sharp barks of surprise you made, the ones you gave when something or someone made you happy without expecting it. like now. “yes. if you’re sure.” the foggy emotions in your head were finally clearing, letting in the sun. his warm eyes caressed your face, pride evident in his face. “‘m sure.” he sealed it with a kiss to your forehead, not wanting to be unprofessional at your work event. simon felt something in his chest. maybe a heartbeat. maybe he had one after all.
—
thought of the “you came? you called” tiktok audio with this one. currently on my period so y’all will only be getting emotional stuff for the next couple of days 🫶
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#fluff#ghost call of duty#fwb simon#tornadothoughts#cod 141#toxic simon riley
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Stray {Blurb}
Postwar!Remus Lupin x Muggle!Reader
Summery: After drifting aimlessly and struggling with the aftermath of war, Remus finds an unexpected ally in a compassionate woman who sees beyond his scars. Through her unwavering kindness and the simple life, Remus maybe he deserves the similar things in life.
Wc:3860
Cw: Use of {Y/N}, fem reader, self doubt, mentions of major character death, financial insecurity, drifting, self indulgent.
Remus Lupin never really believed in rock bottom. Everytime he thought he'd hit it he would fall harder and deeper than he ever thought possible.
After the war there was a long period of time he was drifting. Not necessarily liking the idea of staying in one place too long, not that he could if he tried. Most of the highlands were packed with nosey wizards and witches, his paranoia getting the best of him every time someone asked a bit too many questions, and then it was on to the next town.
It didn't help that no one was enthusiastic about hiring him after learning of his special requirements. He couldn't hold down a job let alone a stable place to stay, staying in the rougher bits of London and Scotland, too busy wallowing in grief to truly feel sorry for his situation.
His full moons were the worst of it. Without James, Peter, and Sirius, Moony reverted back to its most volatile form. His mental state didn't help much either. He had grown comfortable, complacent, with the nurture his friends provided him those nights. So much so he forgot what it was like to have battered and bruised skin. What the scars on his body felt like.
Everything was back to his normal.
Well, not everything. This was the first time he's woken up to the sight of a gun barrel in his face. His body throbbing and his leg caught in a snare. If he looked just past the barrel, he could see glimmering eyes. Fear. He was used to that look.
Though, he could argue he should be the fearful one, considering his lack of dress and immobile position. Bleeding and scared, with a women he's never seen before saying something his ringing ears couldn't quite comprehend.
Soon, his blood loss and blurry eyes made him unable to stay awake. The last thing he saw was a large white dog coming up to sniff his face.
~~~
It was soft, everywhere he turned. Like he was being held in a cloud, he was sure she must have shot him.
When his eyes opened he was greeted with a dim room. It was small, a cream off white with floral designs, it looked like his mother’s, truthfully. He tried to shift his leg only to notice a sizable weight, looking down to see a large white cattle dog, he couldn't quite place the breed immediately, but the moment he shifted it seemed to wake up. Staring at him in his very soul.
The large beast gave a low and steady grumble before he gave a few barks, something he didn't quite know how to place. He just sunk back into the soft plush bedding, giving a low sigh. “Bloody hell..” He mumbled and closed his eyes.
He was still in pain, a lot of it, and he could feel the throb of his injuries pulsing through his body. But there was also a strange sense of comfort in the softness of the bed and the warmth of the room. Even the soft smell of Shea butter and thick wool. It had been so long since he had felt anything remotely close to comfort that it almost seemed foreign to him. He almost convinced himself to fall right back asleep, screw the consequences.
The dog continued to bark, and soon after, Remus heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. His instincts kicked in, and he tried to sit up, but his body protested vehemently. Leaving him to prop pathetically on his elbows.
As the door creaked open, he came to the conclusion that he was most certainly dead. And he guessed the muggles were right about God. Why else in Merlin’s name would an angel be stepping into this room? With a tray of food, no less.
Like that, the barking stopped. The dog satisfied he notified his master in time.
The woman who had been holding the gun stood in the doorway, looking significantly less threatening now. She had a cautious yet gentle expression, her eyes scanning Remus with a mix of curiosity and concern. Retracing his now bandaged chest and bruised skin, clicking her tongue before she walked over. Setting the tray down and picking up two pill bottles from the side of the bed.
"You're awake.” She assessed softly, her voice carrying a lilting accent that Remus recognized to be Scottish. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it through the night.”
Remus tried to respond, but his throat was dry and his voice came out as a weak croak. She poured a glass of water from the tray and handed it to him, with three pills in her palm.
He didn't think twice before he took them, his concern for his life had far since left his mind. He just felt.. safe.
As the cool water soothed his parched throat, Remus couldn't help but wonder who this woman was and why she was helping him. He hadn't known genuine kindness from anyone since he entered the war- everyone was a suspect until proven otherwise. He glanced around the room, taking in the subtle details- the worn but clean furniture, the soft light filtering through the curtains, and the faint smell of herbs mingling with the scent of the shea butter that he could now conclude came from you.
"Thank you.” He managed to say, his voice still weak but sincere. "For... everything."
The woman gave a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're welcome. My name is {Y/N}." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "You're lucky I found you when I did. The Highlands aren't exactly the safest place for someone to be..” She gestured vaguely. “What were you up to? Naked forest dancing?”
Remus let out a weak, humorless chuckle at your comment. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood. His muscles protested every small movement, but he managed to shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable.
"Something like that. I'm Remus.” He muttered, his voice still hoarse. He didn't dare dream of expressing the full length of his woes; the full moon, the transformation, the uncontrollable rage and pain. It was too much to burden you with, not to mention the rapid fire excuses he'd have to come up with. Still, he still felt horrid for lying, especially to someone as kind as you.
You seemed to sense his reluctance and didn't press further. Instead, you busied herself with adjusting the pillows behind his back, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. "Well, whatever it was, you're safe now.” You muttered gently. "You need rest and time to heal. Those pills should help with the pain and prevent any infection."
Remus nodded, grateful for your understanding. "Thank you, {Y/N}.” He repeated, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the cozy room or the medication. "I don't know how to repay you for this."
You waved off his gratitude with a dismissive huff before walking over to set up the simple bowl of oatmeal and apple slices you had managed in the kitchen.
“Seriously, I don't have much but-”
“Your money's no good here, I fear.” You remarked calmly and turned to face him as you handed him the bowl carefully, wrapped in an oven mitt so he wouldn't burn himself. “But your body is.”
Remus blinked, taken aback by the statement. He opened his mouth to respond, but you quickly clarified, sensing his alarm.
"Not in that way.” You quickly corrected with a soft laugh, the first sign of genuine amusement he'd seen from you. "I meant, it's coming up on winter. Once you get better, if you'd like to repay me, there are holes in the barn that need to be patched. There is wood to be collected, there is always work.”
Relief washed over him, and he nodded slowly, understanding the exchange you were offering. That was something he could do. Easily. "I can do that.” His voice was still weak but filled with sincerity. "I'm more than willing to help out."
You smiled, this time a bit more genuinely. "Good. We'll worry about that when you're back on your feet. For now, just focus on getting better." You placed the bowl of oatmeal and apple slices on his lap. "Eat up, you'll need your strength."
Remus took the bowl, feeling a deep sense of,, peace. It had been so long since anyone had shown him patience and kindness this real. He spooned some of the oatmeal into his mouth, savoring the warmth and simple flavor. It was raw. Something unfiltered and unprocessed. You had made these from scratch, while it wasn't impressive, it made the gesture all the more real to him.
As he ate, you busied yourself around the room, tidying up and making sure everything was in order. The large white dog, now lying by the foot of the bed, watched him with curious eyes.
"What’s his name?" Remus asked, nodding towards the dog.
"That's Hugo.” You hummed, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "He's a good boy. A fine worker, too. Found him as a pup wandering near the woods. Much like you, I suppose."
Remus chuckled softly, though it hurt his chest a bit. "Well, I'm glad he found his way to you. And I'm glad I did too."
You paused for a moment, looking at him with a studying looking in your eyes. "We all need a bit of help sometimes.” You said quietly. "No shame in that."
Remus nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. The care you had shown him was a balm to his weary soul, and he couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just maybe, things could get better from here.
As he finished his meal, he felt a wave of exhaustion washing over him again. The combination of the medication and the warm food was making it difficult to keep his eyes open. You seemed to notice and gently took the empty bowl from his hands.
"You should rest.” You said softly, but stern, placing the bowl back on the tray. "Sleep will help you heal faster."
Remus nodded, unable to argue with common sense. As he settled back into the pillows, he felt the soft weight of Hugo shifting in a commando crawl up to his side, offering him a sense of security and companionship. His heavy head resting on his chest.
"Thank you, {Y/N}, Hugo.” He murmured one last time, his voice trailing off as sleep began to claim him.
You watched as his eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips. "You're welcome, Remus," you whispered, turning to leave the room. "Rest well."
As Remus drifted off into a deep, healing sleep, he couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he had found a place where he could finally stop destroying himself and start rebuilding.
~~~
The days turned into weeks, and Remus slowly but surely regained his strength. Each day, he marveled at the patience and empathy you and Hugo showed him. It was a simple life, far removed from the chaos and pain of his past, but it was exactly what he needed.
You never pried into his past, never asked questions, never pushed past what you needed to know in the moment. You hardly even acknowledged the night he showed up on your property. Instead, you offered gentle conversation, warm meals, and a quiet companionship that Remus found deeply comforting. In return, he began to help around the property as he had promised. Fixing the holes in the barn, chopping wood for the winter, and tending to any task you needed of him.
It was symbiotic. You got the help you needed, and he felt like he was contributing to something meaningful without the threat of being chased away.
As the weeks turned into a month, the next full moon loomed. Even as his irritation grew and his stomach sank with dread, you never said a word. You filled his plate, kept him busy with work on your land, and didn't question him when he took a stroll into the woods on the night of the full moon. Though you were a bit baffled when Hugo went with him.
That morning, you were on the porch waiting for him. You said nothing about his tattered clothes and suitcase, just welcomed him home with a warm smile.
It was more than he ever thought he'd deserve. You reminded him of nectar in the mornings and like fine wine most nights. As sweet as honey but as deep and rich as the most ancient oak, your presence grounded him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Each day with you was a melody, a harmony that soothed the tempest within him. He found himself looking forward to your soft laughter, the way your eyes sparkled with unspoken thoughts, and the gentle touch of your hand as you handed him a steaming cup of tea.
Your kindness wasn't just a balm for his physical wounds; it seeped into the deepest recesses of his heart, mending the fractures that years of pain and loss had wrought. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere between your shared meals and quiet evenings by the fireplace, he realized he was falling in love with you.
It wasn't a whirlwind or a blaze; it was a slow, steady burn that warmed him from the inside out. He cherished the simplicity of your life together, the unspoken understanding that passed between you, and the way Hugo seemed to understand it all, lying at your feet as if guarding this fragile, precious thing you were building together.
In those quiet moments, when the world outside seemed a distant memory, Remus realized he had found something he never thought possible: a home, a sanctuary, and he didn't dare hope for more.
Even as you sat on the small couch, in the simple living room. Knees tucked to your chest as you continued to fight with yourself.
“Writer's block?” He prodded as he walked over, sitting down in front of you. Your eyes flickered up to his, your expression still holding slight irritation. “You've been looking at that page for ages.”
“I have ideas.” You argued, looking back down at your pages with a huff. “Just not sure.. how to work them together.”
“Isn't that supposed to be the fun part?” He teased softly and that earned a playful glare form you. He flicked his hands up in defense, slowly smirking.
You managed a soft laugh, your irritation melting away under his gentle look. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one staring at a blank page.” You challenged, but there was no real bite to your words.
Remus leaned closer, peering at your notes with genuine curiosity. "Maybe you should write something else. Just for today. Heard it's supposed to help, yeah?”
You sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips. "Alright, Mr. Lupin, what do you suggest I write about?"
“Maybe your affinity for strays?” He teased and that earned a belly laugh from you.
“Do you hear him, Hugo? He just called you a stray.” You smirked and Hugo gave a huff and a long sigh from were he laid on the floor by Remus’s feet.
“I meant the both of us, really.” He muttered, eyes drifting away. But he knew you knew that already. You would do anything to make him think he wasn't burdening you, but self doubt was his biggest flaw.
Your eyes softened that way that made him feel his stomach turn. Then, your lips turned upward, eyes sparking with amusement. “You make it sound like a talent.” You hummed before you leaned in a bit. “But I wouldn't call you a stray, Remus. You're no more a stray then Hugo.”
Remus felt his mouth go dry as he stared down at you, his heart pounding with an intensity that made his ribs feel bruised. The way your eyes seemed to look straight through him, seeing every hidden part of his soul, left him feeling exposed, yet desperate for the intimacy of it all. The air between you crackled with a palpable tension, each second stretching out as his expression turned thoughtful.
He watched as you slowly reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his arm. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but lean into your touch, his breath hitching.
“I mean it, Remus.” You whispered, your voice barely audible but the loudest thing he's ever heard.
He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours as he nodded, inching closer. The space between you seemed to shrink and expand all at once, his movements hesitant yet driven by an undeniable force he couldn't fully understand.
“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice raw and almost pleading, his vulnerability never felt more purposeful.
“Yeah.” You affirmed without a moment's hesitation, your grip on his arm tightening as if to anchor him to your reality. A reality he wanted to understand more then anything. Your gentle loving reality, one that fooled him again and again into safeties he didn't think he deserved. “You're home, Remus.”
The words hung in the air, a lifeline he desperately needed. The tension between you reached a breaking point as you tilted your head. Every so slightly, your eyes lingering on his lips.
It wasn't long before his lips were on yours, not giving himself time to second guess it all. It was patient. It was sweet. It was ancient and timeless and yet as new as the flowers that were blooming just outside the door. Winter had come and gone and yet here he was, still demanding more of you. As he moved in closer, you felt the book fall against the ground. Not that you minded, it freed up your hands to slide along his chest.
He continued to test the waters, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss. Affection you reciprocated easily. Just as hungry for it as he was. He couldn't find himself wondering if he should think it through. He didn't have much of a choice, the way your hands traveled up to his hair, the way you shifted your legs to make room for him.
“You're home, Remus.” You whispered again, much softer, in between the ever heating kisses. He pushed you fully on your back, his lips traveling the bare skin of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, each kiss igniting a fire that spread through your veins. The words you had spoken echoed in his mind, grounding him in the moment, making everything feel more real and more impossible to resist. He whispered your name, a reverent prayer, as his hands explored the contours of your body, committing every inch to memory.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if afraid he might disappear if you let go. The urgency of your kisses matched his own, a silent agreement that this was right were you both belonged.
~~~
The next morning, you woke up in your bed. Remus was hugging you from behind, his nose buried in your neck and still sound asleep.
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You felt the warmth of Remus's body against yours, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a delightful peace. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the feeling of being so intimately connected to someone who had come to mean so much to you. Your heart ached with affection, selfishly hoping he'd wake up so you could stare into his lovely eyes again.
You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him despite yourself, and turned to gaze at his sleeping face. There was a peaceful calm there that you hadn't seen before, a loveliness that spoke of a man who had finally found a measure of peace. It made your heart swell with a mixture of love and protectiveness.
As if sensing your gaze, Remus stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. When he saw you looking at him, a soft smile curved his lips, and he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer. Your eyes indulged in his own like it was sin.
"Good morning.” He murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.
"Good morning.” You whispered, your own smile mirroring his. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I have in years.” He admitted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or hesitation. Finding none, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, {Y/N}."
"For what?" You asked, absolutely melting as he continued to trail kisses from your temple to your neck.
"For everything.” He sighed, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "For giving me a place to heal, for your patience, and for... well, for last night." He cheeked.
Your cheeks flushed at the memory of the previous night, but you couldn't help but smile, playfully glaring at him. "I should be the one thanking you, Remus. You've brought something into my life that I didn't even realize I was missing."
He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face. "I'm not easy.” He whispered.
“I've always been one for a challenge, Remus.” You whispered as he leaned down to bury his face into your neck. “Unfortunately, I find falling for you quite easy.”
He chuckled, the base in his voice bringing a shiver to your spine. “... I'm a lot of work.”
“You earn your keep, Remus.” You whispered softly and he slowly began to let his hands slip up to your waist, lowering himself to draw lazy kisses along your chest.
“You'll tire of me. When you know me.” He urged and you closed your eyes blissfully.
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
“You'll-” Before he could finish and fall deeper into his own self doubt, you covered his mouth. Cupping his jaw to pull him into another kiss. One he returned with full earnestness.
You broke the kiss and stared up at him with your doe eyes he almost caved.
“I'll love you, Remus. I do. I will. I'm not going to give up that easily,” You huffed. “No matter how much convincing you try to do.”
He stared at you a moment longer, leaning in and running his lips along yours. “It's rotten work.”
“I've never shied away from work.” You whispered and pulled him close. Letting him hide away from the world in your room. “I'm never going to shy away from you.”
Remus sighed deeply, the weight of his doubts lifting as he whispered, "Then I'll never let you go."
And in that shared promise, they found a peace that neither had ever dared to hope for.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#remus lupin x you#remus blurb#remus lupin fic#remus lupin#x reader#x muggle!reader#remus needs a hug#Remus Lupin x muggle!reader#angst with a happy ending#slight angst#hurt/comfort#mauraders#hp marauders#hp fanfic#hp
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Random Things About Your Person
From Elle: Pulled This One From The Drafts... wasn't going to post it but maybe there's something useful in it for someone. It's a chill one ✌️
Notes:
Definition of 'Your Person': At this point, I'm not sure how I personally define 'Your Person', so I guess I'm leaving that up to you're interpretation. For now, let's just say someone you'll have an impactful connection with.
Reading Layout: This reading is done in a brain-dump style where the info is just bullet as it came to me and less organised.
Dividers From X
Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂
PILE 1
This person is such a loving and nurturing person… they could even help heal your inner child. If you want kids then this will transfer over to how they parent and it's very heartwarming.
They give off ethereal vibes. Very in tune with their intuition or have a strong sense of knowing
They could be your 'perfect match'
Someone you 'grow old' with or could envision yourself 'growing old' with
They could have a diverse friend group or their friend group is very important to them.
Night and the moon could be super important. They could be born at night, you meet at night or you communicate with them through your dreams.
They’re very abundant. Regardless of how much money they make, they just have such a rich life that you can see they are without want.
They’re very calming. They could calm your nervous system.
You’re going to have a very passionate/intimate relationship
There could be a 1-3 year age difference between you two (this is more so if you're interested in age differences... I don't why but I ended up reading those here)
They’re trustworthy and reliable
A very strong, gentle and protective person
PILE 2
Could live by the water or be very emotional.
They’re your heart, your everything. It might be hard to deny your attraction to them… but not physically. More so like a knowing once you meet this person that they play a significant role in your story
'Lionheart'... Regal energy
Lots to learn from them... So much that I actually wrote it twice lol
Kind of exotic… very beautiful
They don’t bark, they bite
They're someone who makes things happen
Very quiet…. It makes me think of something that I saw that goes along the lines of "You're harmless, not peaceful. If you’re peaceful you’re capable of great violence" or something like that. This is not meant to say that they're this aggressive/violent person. I feel like it's quite the opposite really.
I kept seeing this image of coming across a wounded animal, a wolf to be exact. You can see they've been in a fight/injured and are on guard. They're not going to hurt you but you can see that they are alert and will attack if you show you mean harm. A case of survival...
I feel like they hold the key to your happiness in a way
Something angelic about them… it could be their mind too
3 to a 8 year age difference (this is more so if you're interested in age differences… I don't why but I ended up reading those here)
An unexpected meeting
Beauty in darkness. Easily stressed or anxious. It feels very tense compared to pile/group 1
They’ve overcome a lot… flexible at a cost
One of you is further ahead in life than the other
Protective of their energy. Loyal, ambitious.
Overstimulated frequently or easily
PILE 3
They may be big on naps. Like napping together is their love language
They may be a little weird
Grumpy x sunshine vibes
Whimsy or connected to their inner child, youthful vibe
Very calm and peaceful
You two could be polar opposites but you work well together.
Their appearance can change a lot... I think more so through them willingly changing it. Really, don't be alarmed if you come home and they look completely different. I feel like they're mischievous and would get a kick out of your reaction
You could have a 2-6 year age difference (this is more so if you're interested in age differences… I don't why but I ended up reading those here)
They've managed to maintain a positive disposition despite the hardships they've faced
They could give off a met you in a past life vibe
Either good at helping you relax or they easily get stressed out but then can just as easily relax themself
Could be very creative or artistic... muse energy
Could like to take their space/time alone.... but could get lost in their head if not careful.
"Living in alignment" could be important to them... they may have a set of personal values or principles they really like to adhere to.
#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a card reading#pac reading#pick a picture#pick a pile reading#pick an image#free tarot reading#tarotblr#pick an image reading#cozycottagetarot#cozycottagetarot readings#pac tarot
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Would you like a drawing for Christmas I am making my moots art work (and do you have any preferences on characters or what not? If so [:)
Out of character: I would love that! Idm, dealer’s choice on what you draw :D
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Warmth Ensnared.
✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! Reader x Yan! Selkie! Sub! Bottom! Neuvillette, no gendered terms used for reader, reader has a cock, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Neuvillette, inexperienced virgin Neuvillette, blowjob (Neuvillette giving), mentions of marking and biting. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The torso and right paw of the fortune cat appear on the front desk.]
The heavens weep their cold tears as you make your way down the coastline, an umbrella in hand. The raindrop pelts harshly against the cheap plastic of your umbrella as the moonlight weakly lights the path ahead of you from behind the clouds.
You’re not quite sure what compelled you to venture out in such heavy rain or what keeps you from turning around and walking home but when you see the unfortunate sight a couple steps before you, perhaps it was a good idea you came out after all.
Frustrated growls and gruff barks reach your ears as a large seal thrashes around on the shore, struggling to free itself from the net that ensnares its flippers and tail. Its efforts are in vain as it seemingly tangles itself more and more in the net with every movement, its vocalisations growing increasingly distressed.
You rush over, determined to free the poor seal. Sensing a potential threat, the seal looks straight at you approaching amidst its struggle and tries to shuffle away, frightened.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m trying to help you out.” Your words seem to soothe as it cautiously observes you when you slowly move in closer, making no attempts to try to attack you. While you try to work its flippers out of the net, you realise that the earlier thrashing had complicated the entanglement, resulting in multiple knots and loops that are too hard to undo with one hand.
Sighing, you set your umbrella aside to free up your other hand, angling it and propping it up in the wet sand so as to block as much of the rain as possible. Despite your umbrella, the chilling rain gradually starts to seep through your clothes as you aid the seal. It eyes you curiously, surprisingly calm, even going so far as to lifting the flipper you’re working the net off of.
Now that you’re a lot closer, you also take the time to examine the seal for any other injuries. Its fur is a shade of silvery grey, with some symmetrical markings or patterns on its belly that almost glow in the dim moonlight.
After a couple minutes, the seal is freed from the net entirely and you bundle the fabric in your arm to dispose of properly later, your other hand holding your umbrella again. Standing, you watch on as it hurries to the shoreline and ventures beyond the waves, going back to its watery habitat. Swimming further out, the seal suddenly stops and turns back to stare at you for a second. Then, it nods towards you, as if thanking you for your help before quickly diving underwater.
Assured that the seal is safe now, you turn and begin to head back home. Although you’re soaked to the bone, a pleasant emotion arises in you from your good deed and the supposed show of gratitude you received in the end. And maybe the heavens are smiling upon you! The downpour immediately starts to clear up, the rain clouds dissipating from the sky, revealing the moon hiding behind them and lighting your way home.
(Unbeknownst to you, a sharp pair of pale lavender eyes emerge from the depths, eyeing you as you leave.)
The next time you find yourself strolling along the beach, the evening sky is mostly clear, save for a few heavy rain clouds that look to be gathering at the edge of the horizon, slowly rolling in. You recall the seal from before and there’s an unexplainable tugging to go back to that location, even though you’re not exactly sure what you hope to find.
After that night, you’ve looked for information regarding seals congregating along that coast but unable to find any records or news about seals in your local natural ecosystem, you dismissed it as some sort of cosmic coincidence that your walk would end with you freeing a seal.
The seal would be nice to see once more though what you actually do see instead is a little stranger than anything you were expecting.
There’s an odd person loitering near the water where you freed the seal. Bizarrely enough, he’s donning a sopping wet yet extravagant fur coat. Water drips from his long hair however, he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He’s incredibly out of place but his face doesn’t show it, even as you try your best not to stare. Rather, he opens his mouth to ask, (you get a flash of fangs), his voice a soothing timbre.
“Apologies. I'm new around here and I seem to have gotten lost. May I trouble you for directions?”
A couple questions zip around in your head: How did he end up at the beach? Did he go swimming in his fur coat? Is he not cold? Realising that you’ve been staring at his fur coat all this time and not speaking, you awkwardly clear your throat and ultimately settle with saying, “I think we'd better dry you off first before you catch a cold.”
Thankfully, there’re still cafes open along the more crowded area of the beach. After getting him a hot drink of his choice to warm himself up (an order for a cup of hot water definitely raised some eyebrows), you ask him to stay put before going to fetch a couple towels from a nearby beach kiosk for him to dry off.
“Thank you for all the help you have extended to me despite this being your first time meeting me,” he says, his tone sincere as he dries his hair, having finished his cup of water.
“It’s no problem really, I’m pretty sure most would’ve helped you out too. How did you end up so soaked in the first place?”
“Ah, it’s a bit much to talk about-” he cuts himself off, “-Where are my manners, I have not introduced myself yet. I am Neuvillette.” A quick handshake, introductions and small talk exchanged, a friend gained.
The two of you talk until you’re ushered out by the cafe staff and agree to meet again next week at this cafe to spend more time together.
You find yourself looking forward to the days with Neuvillette, no matter the activity. (Strangely, on the days you’re unable to meet up with Neuvillette, the weather forecast never matches up, the skies always overcast with dark clouds.)
An additional fun treat is that every time the both of you meet, he never fails to regale you with fantastical tales, with myths and legends from the unfathomable depths of merfolk and sea monsters, each tale more and more outlandish and wondrous than the last. The details that he injects to his stories are so intricate that you’d almost believe he was recounting them from personal experience itself.
The agenda for today’s hangout: Bring him around the local aquarium! A leisurely stroll whilst admiring the sealife, listening to his informative explanations on how the marine ecosystem functions, how everything has a crucial part to play in it. But your day gets a lot better when your Neuvie mysteriously draws the attention of the seals when the both of you walk past them. The lovable blobs bounce up to him, as near as possible, gleefully barking away, trying to get his attention.
You laugh as you watch on at the display, “Looks like I’ve managed to catch myself a seal prince!”
His face heats up at your remark, a light hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the commotion from the seals. He musters up a weak chuckle as he meets your eyes.
“And perhaps you have.”
The seals glance between the two of you and somehow manage to bark even louder, some even clapping their flippers against their bodies. Once you’ve decided that it was enough embarrassment for your poor Neuvie, taking his hand in yours, you lead him off to the next section of the aquarium. Your hand brushes against the sleeves of his fur coat that he constantly wears. (His fingers entwine with yours, his grip secure.)
By the time you finish touring the entire aquarium, it’s the late evening, the street lights already lit as the dinner crowd mills about for a place to dine in.
Over the course of dinner, he sneaks little glances at you between bites of his food, smiling slightly when you catch him red-handed but never saying what’s on his mind. It’s only when the two of you are walking out of the restaurant, he works up the nerve to ask.
“We have been seeing each other for some time now, and I hope that I am not overstepping to suggest,” his cheeks flush, “that perhaps we could take this to another level…”
His breath catches when he feels your hand finding his as you say, “My place then?”
The instant you lead him into your home and room, you press your lips against his and revel in the small clipped moan you manage to drag out of him. Neuviellette doesn’t seem to be experienced, given the sloppy way he kisses you back and how you can feel him beginning to grind against your thigh between his legs. When you pull away, he’s panting, pupils dilated as he chases after you.
“Your first time, Neuvie?”
“Ah. Yes… my deepest apologies if I do not manage to satisf-” You stop him before he can finish his sentence, shushing him with a quick kiss.
“Shush, Neuvie, it’s nothing to apologise for. If anything, I’m honoured to be your first,” you tuck a hair behind his ear, leaning in to whisper, your tone teasing, “In fact, I think teaching you allll about it might just be even better ♡”
Soon, you have him knelt between your legs as you sit on the edge of the bed, guiding your cock to his lips.
“Watch your fangs now, Neuvie.”
He flicks his tongue out, swirling it around the head, licking at it before his lips close around your tip. True to your words, he’s careful about his fangs as slowly, he takes you into his mouth. A low groan filters through the air when you feel his tongue press up against the underside of your length.
“Ngh, that’s great, Neuvie…” Your hand caresses the side of his face, his skin warm where you touched, “So good at this already.”
The sight of him peering up at you from his spot, how he’s engulfed your every inch (does he not have a gag reflex?), his eyes slowly glazing over, it sends lust coursing through your veins. He’s so perfect for you.
“Do you think you could move?” Neuvillette hums in agreement, the vibrations stimulating as he starts bobbing his head, obedient as he even tries to occasionally swallow around you when you hit the back of his throat. The wet sounds of slurping only serve to arouse you even further, joined by the moans Neuvillette lets out, as if savouring the taste of you.
“Ah! L-Let me pull out Neuvie-?!” At your words, his hands suddenly clamp tightly onto your thighs before he takes you as far as he can, sucking hard as he feels your cock twitch on his tongue.
It’s not long before you cum, spurting your load down his throat that he devours eagerly, moaning at the taste. When he frees you from his mouth with a lewd “pop!”, his tongue lolls out, showing that he really did swallow everything you gave him.
Cupping his face in your hands, you bring him up to lock lips with him, making out fiercely, more tongue than anything.
“So greedy, Neuvie, why didn’t you let me pull out?” He just gives you a light ditzy chuckle before ducking back in for another kiss, unable to be separated from you. You drink in all his muffled noises, your hands roving over his body as he indulges himself in your warmth, your everything.
And you’re so caring too, taking the time to constantly check in on him as you thoroughly prep him so his first time wouldn’t hurt. Your fingers coated in lube, you gingerly work him open as he lets out unrestrained whines. A keen rips from him when the tip of your finger bumps against his prostate, the unfamiliar pleasure a very welcome one.
You treat him so well, how could he not be drunk on your love?
“Tell me everything you feel Neuvie,” your tip breaches his rim and it has him seeing stars behind his closed eyes.
“Hah! So good-!” He’s embraced in your arms, his heaving chest against yours as his heart races at the ecstasy you’re granting him. Inch by inch, you sink into his hole. Your skin is sticky against his and he presses himself onto your body, wanting to feel all of you. His breath comes out in pants as you reach deeper into him, your cock filling him up even more.
“Look at you, Neuvie, such a treasure.” Your praise pushes him closer to his tipping point. And when you graze past his prostate, his vision whites out instantly.
“Hgnk! Cumming- AH!” Clinging onto you even tighter, his cum splatters onto his skin and yours, unconsciously grinding your cock deeper into him as he rides out his high. He collapses against you, burying into the crook of your neck when he feels you press a kiss to the top of his head and smile.
Neuvillette has always been so used to the indifferent coldness of the open ocean, the unyielding pressure beneath the waves. But you’ve changed him, he’s addicted to the warmth you’ve shown to him ever since your first fated meeting. (Never mind that you still don’t know that the seal you rescued was him, you will understand in due time.)
Now that he’s with you, swapping fur for skin, trading water for land, the happiness he feels when he’s yours is incomparable. He’s become enamoured with all of you. He’d give up anything else to stay by your side like this forever. Anything to be with you.
The next morning, Neuvillette is rather lively but you chalk it up to the intimate session last night. It was his first time after all, and you’re just glad that he seemed to enjoy it. But he’s a lot clingier with the way he has to be near you at all times, be it wordlessly tailing you around your home or sitting next to you whenever.
As the both of you cuddle, still too lazy to get started with the day since you’re entangled in each other, he suddenly peels himself off of you. Neuvillette sheds his fur coat, folding it neatly, then presenting it to you.
“I want you to have this,” there’s a jovial lilt in his voice, almost akin to a seal’s chirp, “Do you accept it?”
“Are you sure? You wear this everywhere and it’s probably important to you, I couldn’t take it.” Neuvillette shakes his head, firm in his stance.
“I insist you have it. It is important, but,” he looks into your eyes, in them, a raw frenzied sincerity swirls like whirlpools, “That’s why I want you to have it.”
“When you put it that way,” you take the coat from him, experimentally draping it over yourself, sighing when you realise truly how soft it is.
“Thank you Neuvie.” The tender moment is broken when he leans in, ensnaring you in a ravenous kiss. Darting your tongue into his mouth, he’s no longer shy like yesterday, letting out needy whimpers as he deepens the kiss.
“You didn’t, hah, finish in me last night, my love,” he huffs during stolen breaths in between kisses, “You need to. Pleasepleaseplease!”
He’s dragging you back into your room and soon enough, you have him under you, the fur coat draped on your back as you rut into him. His walls clench down on your shaft, his legs locking around your hips to make sure you don’t pull out of him when you climax.
A dizzying mixture of mania and desire floods through his system when you suck a hickey onto his pristine skin. He feels your scorching breath fan across his collarbone and when your lips make contact with his skin, he jolts, aware of every pleasurable sensation you’re flooding him with right now.
And it’s only fair if he gets you to mark you too. Claiming you as his other half, his destined partner. Sharp teeth pierce and break past your skin as Neuvillette bites down on your shoulder.
He recalls his moments with you: How you miraculously showed up in his time of need. Helping him time and time again. The other seals rowdily congratulating their prince on finding a mate. And finally, how you accepted his pelt.
How you accepted him.
He laps at the bitemark when he detaches, a sense of fulfilment bubbling up in him. A particularly deep grind drags him out of his thoughts, an unabashed moan escaping him.
“Thinking about something else, while- ah! -I’m here fucking you?”
“N-No! Only thinking- ghk?! -of, of you! Only y-you!” Neuvillette blubbers out, sensing every movement of your dick in him.
“I’m close! Going to- hnn! -cum!” Hearing your words, his words tumble out of his mouth unintelligibly.
“In me! Hah- ah! Cum in me! Please, love! In me- need it, need you-!!”
Pressing your hips into his, you finish in him as per his request, his legs looping around you even tighter, forcing you to reach further in him.
The stretch drives Neuvillette wild and when he feels the warm bliss spreading in him, his eyes roll into his skull and he throws his head back, letting out an animalistic growl as he cums.
"I love you I love you I love you I love you!"
Later, when you’ve wiped the both of you down, the cuddling resumes. Cracking an eye open, you see Neuvillette snuggling into the fur coat.
“See, you’re still attached. I couldn’t take it.”
“No, no, my love. You’ve already taken it.” He flips over to face you, “Do you know the ‘legend’ of selkies, my love?”
At the shake of your head, he begins to speak. You listen as he recounts the tale, how important their sealskin is to them, the symbolism of owning a selkie’s precious pelt.
His voice is otherworldly, mesmerising, as if it were the gentle lull of a fishing boat on the water.
“The tales usually spell the misery of a selkie who has had their pelt taken forcibly against their will. I’ve seen it happen to my subjects in the past. But I am fortunate.”
…His subjects?
When your eyes open again, (you didn't even know they closed in the first place), a selkie lays before you. His fur is a shade of silvery grey, with some symmetrical markings or patterns on his belly that almost glow. His webbed hand tipped with claws captures yours. His eyes are brine pools and his fangs are trident-sharp when he speaks.
And he says.
”So take me, and I'll give all of myself up for you.”
[> You add a fur pelt to your collection.]
Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.
#📜.Shapeshifting Hallways#📜.qi writings#📜.qi musings#genshin x reader#genshin smut#sub genshin#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette smut#sub neuvillette#selkie smut#sub selkie#yandere selkie#dom reader#top reader#kinktober
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i think that last fic you wrote for me is my new favorite thing to reread on here! could i request a pt two where they’re all just having a chill day/ night and then they all get ready for bed together and lay down for cuddles plz? the way you write for poly!marauders is just so perfect! tysm again for reading my requests!! -🌶️
Awww that makes me so happy, I'm so glad you liked it! And of course you can my love <3
poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 981 words
Though James typically prefers you with no clothes on, he does think you look pretty cute in his big t-shirt. He bunches the fabric in his hands as he comes up behind you, setting his head on your shoulder.
“What’re you doing?” you ask, smiling at him through a mouthful of toothpaste.
He gazes at you in the mirror. “Just admiring the view.”
“Oi,” Sirius elbows him, hands wet with whatever product in his billion-step skincare routine he’s currently rubbing into his face. His hair is scraped back into a bun to keep it out of the way. (James loves it when he wears it like that.) “Quit stealing my lines, Potter.”
James doesn’t even need to speak; he knows the best way to rile Sirius right now doesn’t involve words. He grabs his dark-haired boyfriend by the chin, landing a smacker right on his cheek.
Sirius shouts just as James pulls back, grimacing.
“Fuck, Pads, what’s in that shit?” he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, getting rid of any remaining product from Sirius’ face. “Have you poisoned me?”
“Serves you right,” Sirius shoots back. “Everyone else knows better than to mess with my routine. I hope you are poisoned for contaminating my skin like that.”
James looks about for support, but you only roll your eyes, spitting into the sink.
“Don’t wish poisoning upon people, love,” Remus says mildly from the bedroom, and it’s not much, but James seizes upon it. He sends Sirius a triumphant look.
“I only wanted kisses, Moons,” he whines, padding into the bedroom and laying himself pitifully across Remus’ lap. “You get it, don’t you?”
Remus smiles, bending to press his lips to James’. “Merlin, Sirius,” he says teasingly, “you really don’t know what you’re missing.”
James chases him for more, propping himself up on his elbow and keeping Remus close with a hand at the nape of his neck.
It doesn’t take long before Sirius is rushing out, his skincare routine apparently finished for the night as he chases you into the bedroom. James and Remus both stop to watch the spectacle as he grabs you around the waist, dipping you low and kissing you passionately. You make a sound of muffled surprise against his lips, breaking away after a second.
“Sirius!” You laugh, flustered. “You cannot just attack me because you’re jealous! I won’t be a pawn in your game.”
Sirius puts on a show of hurt, straightening you but keeping his hands steadfastly around your waist. “You’re not a pawn, baby. You’re the best piece on the board.”
You let out a loud, barking laugh at that, extricating yourself from his hold. “That’s really awful,” you tell him, stepping backwards towards the bed. “If you think James is stealing your lines, you need to come up with some better material.”
Sirius’ mouth drops open, and James snickers.
You sit down on the bed and launch into your nightly routine of demolishing your joints, twisting around to coax painful-sounding cracking noises from your back, and Remus moves away from James to begin his nightly routine of trying to foil you, taking your shoulders in his hands before you can rotate your spine in the other direction.
“Quit that,” he says, looking at you severely.
You nod, but no sooner does Remus remove his hands from you than you’re contorting your back again, eliciting a series of popping noises that makes James wonder whether you might’ve broken something.
Remus shakes his head at you, disappointed but not necessarily surprised. “I’m going to kill you,” he promises.
You grin. “You’re all talk.”
You’re nearly as bad as Sirius when you get like this, but Remus knows just how to handle you, wrestling you flat onto the bed and laying down atop you. He toys with your hair lazily, a little smirk tugging at his lips.
“Are you ready to wind down?” he asks you placidly.
You’re laughing, squirming feebly underneath his weight, and James can’t help but chuckle, grabbing one of your hands by the wrist when you try to pinch at Remus’ side.
“Traitor,” you say to him.
“I take no sides,” he replies easily. “Sorry, angel.”
“Darling,” Remus hums lazily, getting your attention again. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”
You roll your eyes and sigh greatly, but nod. Remus doesn’t let you off that easily this time, though, passing you immediately to Sirius, who tugs you tight to his front, your nose squishing into his cheek as he peppers your face with kisses.
“Oh, I see,” James says, getting into the opposite side of the bed. “So they can touch your face, but I can’t, huh?”
“Anyone can, once the product has dried,” Sirius says cooly, settling down with one final kiss to the tip of your nose. “Your mistake was jumping the gun, Potter.”
“Can we be done with this?” you ask. “Remus is tired.”
“Don’t use him as your scapegoat,” Sirius says, but peers over you to see Remus anyway, a tiny bit of worry in the squint of his eyes. “You’re not tired, are you Moons?”
“Only the normal amount,” Remus says, eyes already closed.
James coos, touching his lips to the high point of Remus’ cheekbone, just beside a jagged scar.
“Poor boy, we’re tormenting him,” he says lightly, and Sirius rolls his eyes but quiets down.
For a good, long while, it’s silent. James watches the light in the room change as cars drive past, their headlights filtering through the curtains. The breathing around him becomes slower, more even. His own body relaxes into the mattress, eyelids drooping as he starts to give into that sweet, soft heaviness that waits just past the threshold of sleep.
He hears a quiet rustling of sheets, and then a loud cracking sound comes from your side of the bed.
A low voice. “Don’t make me come over there.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x gn!reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#poly!marauders x self insert#the marauders#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#the marauders era#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#marauders fandom#marauders x reader#hp marauders
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just a little too soon ꩜ wonwoo x reader.
♬⋆.˚ An ice cold bitch when you burn like noon / Was it hidden in the cards that I'd lose you? / Was it written in the stars that we'd meet a little too soon?
🎸╰› includes: boyfriend!wonwoo, alternate universe: non-idol, long-term relationship, pet names ('babe'), deteriorating relationship, alcohol, angst, break-up, [implied] second chances, tarot card references [descriptions courtesy of labyrinthos.co].
💽╰› this is part of my ongoing series, buzz (seventeen's version) + this piece is inspired by track 09, blue moon. word count: 4,000+
There was a time where Wonwoo used to greet you at the front door.
He used to be so particular about it, too. lt had been a little routine that lasted for a good couple of months. You'd text once you were heading home and he'd respond with anything from take care to missed you today.
He made sure you never had to pull out your key. All you had to do was knock thrice. He'd then swing open the door— his glasses slightly askew, his mop of dark hair bearing the indent of his headphones— before softly saying, "Welcome home, babe."
But that had been years ago. The homecoming has since faded into something less ceremonious; his responses to your texts, if any at all, now more of can you get some soda on your way home and don't forget to pick up the laundry.
As your key unlocks the front door, you feel that small flicker of nostalgia— and something else entirely. That feeling you can't quite name. Because how can you miss someone who's still there?
As you step in to your shared apartment, you can hear the distant sounds of a game being played. It takes you only half a minute to figure out what your boyfriend's poison is tonight: League of Legends, based on the muffled commands that he's barking out.
You feel an ounce of pride when you pad in to his game room and realize that you're right. Wonwoo's gaze briefly flickers away from his computer screen.
You wave at him. He gives you a grin in return.
He mumbles something in to his microphone before hitting something on his keyboard, seemingly muting himself. When he looks up at you, his smile has become a touch more sheepish. You already know what he's going to ask before the question comes.
"Just one more match," you warn, like you always have.
He adjusts in his swivel chair. "Three more?"
Both of you know where this is heading. "Two," you say in unison.
Your strict gaze softens; Wonwoo's smile becomes a little more genuine. He beckons for you to come closer and you make a show out of it— faking a sigh, dragging your feet.
He rolls his eyes but reaches out for your hand all the same. Once your fingers are intertwined, he raises your clasped hands to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to the back of your knuckle.
"Thank you," he mumbles against your skin, peering up at you from behind his glasses.
You feel like a bit of a fool, to still find the action heart-fluttering after all this time. You bite back the pleased smile that threatens to fill your face as you disentangle your hand to briefly press your palm against Wonwoo's cheek.
"I'll order takeout," you tell him. "Be done before it comes."
"I'm not really in charge of the game being done by a certain—"
"Wonu."
"Fine, fine."
As you make your way out of his room, he calls after your retreating back. "No Chinese, please!"
You order Chinese anyway. Partly out of spite; partly because it's what you want.
When Wonwoo emerges from his room after the vouchsafed two matches, he lets out a displeased sound at the sight of paper pails resting on the dining table. "I said no Chinese," he grumbles.
You don't even look up from the manual in your hands. "I got you the mapo tofu you like," you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. "And some spring rolls."
"The mapo tofu you like." Wonwoo takes a seat across from you. Despite his complaints, he's already digging through the takeout to find the meal you've chosen for him. He's too used to these little stunts of yours to be fazed.
The two of you have been dating for four years, after all— living together for a little over half that time. It's a quaint, two-bedroom apartment. More often than not, you share the same bed, but the other room is there for when the other needs their privacy.
The domesticity that you two have cultivated came with its own set of growing pains. But— for the most part— you've both learned how to make it work. Respective chores around the household. Shared meals and moments like these, where neither feel a need to fill the silence.
Except, tonight, there's the introduction of something novelty, something worth talking about.
"Hm?" Wonwoo cranes his neck over at the cards spread in front of you. There's half a spring roll hanging out of his mouth as he tries to catch a glimpse of what has your attention. "Are those— tarot cards?"
You give him a small nod of acknowledgment. "Soonyoung gave them to me as a gag gift," you note. "He says that I need to get a hobby."
Wonwoo finishes off the spring roll in his mouth as he lets out a derisive scoff. "And he suggested tarot reading?"
"Hey," you say defensively. "I think it's interesting."
"I think it's bullshit."
"You think a lot of things are bullshit."
"This one especially," Wonwoo insists. "It's just a bunch of scam work."
You press the bridge of your nose with your thumb and your index finger. Wonwoo catches the action and immediately backs down, placated by the telltale sign of your growing annoyance.
"I'm not about to start charging people to have their fortune read," you say exasperatedly. "I just wanted to try something new."
Wonwoo doesn't push it. He only lets out a low hum as he picks at another roll. A pregnant silence stretches between the two of you for a couple of minutes before Wonwoo says, "Try it on me, then."
You look up from shuffling the deck. An eyebrow of yours arches upward when you notice the lack of any outwardly hostile expression on your boyfriend's face.
"You're just going to make fun of me," you grumble.
"I swear that I won't." Wonwoo pauses and meets your skeptical gaze. "I swear that I'll try not to," he amends.
It's as good as you're going to get, you decide. With a defeated sigh, you hold out the deck. Wonwoo gingerly plucks a card out, placing it face-up on to the table between you.
Amid your takeout lies a card depicting a man suspended upside-down, hanging by his foot from a tree. "The Hanged Man," you read aloud, needing to slope across the table because it's facing Wonwoo.
"Very original."
"You said you'd try to be nice!"
"I was just saying!"
For a moment, the two of you just stare at the card. "Well?" Wonwoo prompts. "What does it mean?"
"Er..." You scramble for the manual that came with the box of cards. As you skim over the descriptions, you feel your eyebrows knitting together with slight confusion. "Oh, it matters if it's upright or reversed."
"Facing who? Me or you?"
"I— it doesn't say."
Wonwoo lets out an exhale. His expression seems caught between exasperation and fondness.
"You could just tell me anything and I'd believe it," he says dryly.
"That's not the point."
Wonwoo shakes his head at your whining and pushes back against the table, his chair scratching against the floor. You pore over the definitions as Wonwoo gathers up the dishes; it seems that, for him, this conversation is already as good as done.
He has some sense to lean down to leave a quick peck on the top of your head.
"Whatever it is," he mutters against your hair, indulging you for only one more moment. "I'm sure it's a hundred percent right."
You glare at his back as he walks over to the kitchen sink.
🃏 The Hanged Man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward — whether as repentance for past wrongdoings, or a calculated step backward to recalculate his path onward. This time he spends here will not be wasted, he does this as part of his progression forward.
When you date someone for long enough, their friends tend to become your friends.
That's how you've ended up here on a Thursday evening— even though you'd much rather spend the weeknight recuperating from your day at work. Admittedly, all you had wanted was some time with Wonwoo.
But Mingyu was broken-hearted, he had reasoned, and he couldn't say 'no' to his best friend. In hindsight, you probably could have opted to have the apartment all to yourself, could have had your quiet night to yourself.
Neither of you were willing to give way for what you each wanted, and so this is the compromise: You, tagging along to the speakeasy where Mingyu is drinking himself silly over some girl who didn't give him the time of day.
Wonwoo and you are seated on either side of Mingyu, while Soonyoung sits across from you three. Jihoon had passed on the whole thing— to be expected— and Junhui is running late.
That leaves you three to pick up the broken pieces of a distraught Mingyu.
"You'll find someone else, Gyu," you offer.
Wonwoo pats the younger man on the back. "It's not the end of the world," your boyfriend adds.
"Easy for you two to say!" Mingyu takes a long swig of his fourth, maybe fifth bottle of beer. "You two are, like, solved."
"Solved?" you and Wonwoo echo. You, with a half-smile; Wonwoo, with an arched eyebrow.
"Solved," Soonyoung pitches in, hiccupping as he speaks. "You've got it figured out. Aish, couples shouldn't be giving advice to heartbroken people."
That draws a chuckle out of you and Wonwoo. Neither of you make an effort to push back on Soonyoung, instead opting to mumble plattidues to a Mingyu that is getting progressively drunker.
As the night wears on, the conversation veers in to more common territories. Mingyu's apartment-hunting endeavor. Soonyoung's shitty boss.
At one point, Soonyoung chirps to you, "How are you liking the tarot set?"
Wonwoo lets out a derisive snort mid-sip of his beer. You reach behind the back of Mingyu's chair to playfully smack your boyfriend on the shoulder.
"I've been having fun with it," you say with a sniffle. Wonwoo raises his hands in a show of surrender.
"Think you're ready to do readings?" Soonyoung asks, and there's no teasing in tone. Just a genuine sort of excitement. It's in such contrast to Wonwoo that you're momentarily thrown off-kilter.
When you realize that Soonyoung is waiting, that he's expectant, you brighten up just a bit. "Actually—" You begin to dig through your purse.
Wonwoo shoots you an incredulous look. "You did not bring it," he says, sounding mildly horrified. You ignore him in favor of fishing out the tarot set that Soonyoung had gifted you.
Immediately, Soonyoung is moving aside the bottles and glasses on the table so you have space to shuffle the cards. The three boys have varying expressions on their faces: Soonyoung is enthusiastic, Mingyu is curious, and Wonwoo is resigned.
"Me," Mingyu croaks, putting down his bottle. "Can you read for me?"
"It helps if you ask a question," you say.
Mingyu looks like he's thinking long and hard about his query, though the thoughtful expression is frayed by the way he's already fairly tipsy. Soonyoung and Wonwoo share a laugh as they wait for Mingyu, who eventually blurts out—
"What will my love life look like for the rest of the year?"
It's to be expected, considering the whole reason you're out tonight is because of Mingyu's failed romantics. Soonyoung goads him and Wonwoo snickers, but you take the question in stride. "Tell me when to stop," you say as you shuffle the deck.
Mingyu watches your hands with laser focus. After what feels like an eternity, he solemnly calls, "Stop."
A card peeks out of the spaces between your fingers. You place it face-down on the table before flipping it for everyone to see. Soonyoung leans over. Even Wonwoo can't hide his mild interest as he eyes the suit.
An upright Wheel of Fortune.
"A wheel always turns," you note to Mingyu, pointing out the imagery on the card. "It can mean that— despite being in a bad situation right now, that can easily change. Nothing, bad or good, is permanent."
There's not really much more that you can say. You weren't really in the business of taking card-reading seriously; if anything, you're treating it more like a party trick.
And it works, based on the way a smile breaks out on Mingyu's face, and the low whistle that Soonyoung lets out. Wonwoo, as you had anticipated, looks far from impressed.
"Me next, me next," Soonyoung chants, only to seemingly change his mind last minute as you go to reshuffle the deck.
Soonyoung turns to Wonwoo. "You next!"
Wonwoo takes another sip of his drink. His arms are casually crossed over his chest and there's an almost piercing glare behind his spectacles. All of you are a little too accustomed to his sharp eyes and his dry humor to be unnerved.
"I already had my fortune read," your boyfriend says.
"You can always have it read again," Mingyu whines. The whine is a telltale sign that he's heading to 'far gone' territory; your friend group knows better than to try and reel in a drunk Mingyu.
Soonyoung sing-songs, "We should ask about when the two of you are going to get marriiied."
The jabs about marriage aren't anything new. Having dated as long as you two have, you and Wonwoo are often subject to such questions from everyone around you— concerned family, impatient friends, nosy co-workers. You've both talked about it, of course, but in no certain terms.
With a laborious sigh, Wonwoo leans over Mingyu to pluck a card from your deck.
"Yah!" you complain mid-shuffle, swatting at his hand, but Wonwoo is already unceremoniously throwing the card face-up on to the table.
"Our marriage fortune," he announces, his tone edged with sarcasm.
The card features a woman sitting between two pillars— but, this time, it's reversed. You sift through your brain for what it means upside down.
"Upright, it means listening to your intuition," you offer.
None of the boys are any wiser about the fact that you're supposed to be spewing the reading for a reversed version.
"Wonwoo!" Soonyoung says excitedly. "Isn't your intuition saying that you should propose right now?"
A panicked Mingyu laments, "Wait, I'm not ready to be best man yet!"
Soonyoung seems to take serious offense at that. "Who said you're going to be Wonwoo's best man?" the boy demands. "I've known him longer!"
The two go on to bicker about the hypothetical ceremony and the groomsman line-up as you and Wonwoo stare on incredulously. After a moment, Wonwoo huffs out a laugh that only you catch. "Idiots," he grumbles fondly.
He finishes off the last of his drink. You're not sure if you've been lumped in to the half-insult, but you don't have the time to dwell on it.
Instead, you absentmindedly play with a corner of the reversed card as you contemplate calling it a night.
🃏 When it comes to the High Priestess reversed, it can mean that you are finding it difficult to listen to your intuition… Something has been telling you to follow your gut, but you may be ignoring the call. There is a lot of confusion around you, and your actions may feel contrary to what you know is right.
Here's how it gets you, weeks down the line.
On the surface, it looks like something small being blown out of the water. A date night postponed because of yet another friends who 'needs' him.
"We live together," Wonwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. The argument takes place in your bedroom, where there's a chasm of space between you. You, sitting on the edge of your bed. Him, already standing by the door.
"We literally live together," he repeats. "We see each other every day."
"You barely even look at me nowadays," you snap, and despite the haze of your anger, you're lucid enough to wonder— where the hell did that come from?
Wonwoo's visible confusion mirrors your internal one.
"What—" he starts. What does that mean?, he probably planned to ask.
Instead, he grits out, "I'm looking at you right now."
And he is. Of course he is. It's a familiar expression; the set of his jaw, the spark in his eyes. He is trying and failing to keep his tone level, to not give in to the punches that you're throwing.
But when you love someone, you can be so cruel to them. Perhaps crueler than anyone else.
It goes both ways. Your mutual refusal to budge. Your tendency to let all the resentment build. And Wonwoo—
"You care more about being good than being good to me," you accuse him.
The frustration on Wonwoo's face only deepens. "Isn't that the same thing?" he asks.
"No, it isn't." Your voice is softer, now. More genuine in its ache. "There's a difference."
As if on cue, the muffled sound of his phone ringtone begins to blare from the living room.
You and Wonwoo regard each other in the low lighting of your bedroom. You, dry-eyed and hurt. Wonwoo, tightly wound and prideful.
The ringing of the phone ceases, only to start up again. Wonwoo makes his choice.
"I won't be coming home tonight," he says, his voice wretched. "Don't go looking for me."
With that, he takes his leave, slamming the bedroom door behind him. The force knocks over some of the things atop a nearby dresser— your set of cards, a stray lip gloss tube, the picture frame holding a photo from your first anniversary.
You don't pick them up just yet. You stay at the edge of your breath, holding your breath for so long that you feel your chest begin to burn, as you strain your ears for the sound of Wonwoo moving across your shared apartment.
His heavy footsteps get more distant. The lock on the front door clicks.
The chasm grows, and grows, and grows.
Only then do you go to assess the damage. The lip gloss tube has rolled too far under the bed; you resolve to figure that out in the morning. The picture frame remains miraculously intact.
(You don't notice this until much later, but there's the tiniest crack on an edge of the glass. A cobweb-like fracture that you will only see once you hold it up to the light.)
You go to gather up your deck of cards, and your eyes stray to the only one that has fallen face-up.
A lightning bolt striking a tower that's on fire.
🃏 The Tower represents change in the most radical and momentous sense… The old ways are no longer useful, and you must find another set of beliefs, values and processes to take their place.
WONU 🐈❤️ 1:43 AM You really didn't come find me
YOU 2:06 AM u told me not to.
WONU 🐈❤️ 2:19 AM Right
WONU 🐈❤️ 3:03 AM I think we need to talk.
YOU 3:33 AM yeah. we do.
It's quiet as you two pack up.
You're not ignoring each other, no. There are still a couple of amicable exchanges, like do you want to keep the blankets and I don't have space for any more of the succulents. Occasionally, you'll reminisce over some small thing.
The stubborn bathroom grout that had given you both grief. The burn mark in the kitchen from when Wonwoo had first attempted to cook.
"It's like we're looking through a museum," you say as you shove the last of your clothes in to your suitcase.
"A museum of our failed relationship," he muses thoughtlessly.
You wince and his expression softens imperceptibly, but he doesn't apologize. The silence stretches on for a little more.
A mutual decision, both of you had told all your friends. For the better.
You, moving back home for a bit. Wonwoo, opting to room with Mingyu again.
As you tape up the last of your cardboard boxes, you speak up. You're not looking at Wonwoo as you say, "It wasn't a failure. It just—"
Your words fail you. You only really want to communicate to him that your four-year relationship wasn't something that you had wanted to regret, that it's not, by any means, a dead loss.
It's a small grace that Wonwoo understands you, still. That, even now, he can hear what you don't, what you can't say.
"Yeah," he mumbles. He's already doing final checks to see if either of you had forgotten anything. "I know."
Some years ago, that might have been enough. To be known and to be loved.
But as you hoist a box up in to your arms, as you face Wonwoo who is looking at everything else but you, you realize that there is only so much that knowing can do. For you. For him. For anyone.
"I'm going to start loading things in to my car," you inform him.
"Right."
"You'll stay behind?"
He nods. "Going to give the keys back to the owner."
"Okay." Your voice is low, again. Like you're scared you'll drive Wonwoo away if you speak any louder. "Alright."
A beat.
And then Wonwoo finally looks straight at you.
There's nothing on his expression that gives away what he's feeling or thinking. He's always been the harder to figure out between the two of you. You spent years and years trying— trying to read him, trying to decipher every little thing.
You no longer feel that urge. It's a bit freeing, really.
"Take care," he says after a long pause.
"You, too."
Wonwoo doesn't call out your name as you walk away. That's not his style. In all the time you've known him, he's never been the type to beg, to grovel.
Wonwoo always knew when it was time to call something quits, when it was time to head home. You try to embody that as you walk past the front door, as you head down the hallway.
Before you round the corner, though, you glance over your shoulder.
Faintly, you can make out Wonwoo crouched over one of your boxes. The ghost of a smile tugs at your lips when you see him hold up and squint at a card.
A part of you wants to head back in, just to see what he's looking at. Just to see the last trick that the fates have up their sleeve.
Instead, you head for the elevators.
🃏 The Fool card is numbered 0, which is considered to be a number of infinite potential. Consider him a blank slate, for The Fool has yet to develop a clear personality. He is the symbol of innocence — his journey to come will shape his character yet.
Here's how it gets you, years and years later.
It starts with the hotel key card. When you press it to your designated room's door lock, the machinery lights up red and lets out a low beep. You try one, two more times, only to get the same results.
It starts with your free hand reaching for your cellphone. Your first thought is to call Soonyoung. He had made the arrangements, after all, being the pedantic groom-to-be that he was.
It starts with the door swinging open right before the call can go through.
Soonyoung picks up on the other line. "Have you met your roommate?" the bastard says in lieu of a greeting.
"I'm going to kill you," you say in to the receiver before promptly ending the call.
Wonwoo leans against the door frame, a half-smile on his face. His hair is shorter, now, but his glasses are still just a touch lopsided.
It starts there— the way he looks older and yet still very much like the last time you saw him. The way his expression is a lot less guarded and a lot more open. How you can tell there's a fondness that lingers; how your own heart, like a traitor, skips a beat at the sight of it.
It starts with Wonwoo half-jokingly saying, "Welcome home, babe."
#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fic#wonwoo angst#wonwoo x y/n#wonwoo x you#wonwoo scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#svt scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#ylangelegy buzz x svt#( mildly surprised that this is the first one i came up with!! when i was so sure it'd be jihoon or vern )#( but the tarot format came along easy )#୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy#୨ৎ muse .ᐟ svt
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Those Eyes.
Terry RichmondWerewolf! x Black Fem! Reader Werewolf Slayer.
Summary: After you couldn't find your boyfriend Terry, you found out that he's a werewolf.
A/N: happy spooky season, enjoy!🫡❤️ don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request if you like!
Taglist: @henneseyhoe @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sageispunk @keyera-jackson @lovedlover @justhornyyme @avoidthings @brattyfics @soft-persephone @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @theblacklewinsky @phomoe @satoruya @kindofaintrovert @playgurlxoxo @blackelysian @vile-harlot @violetmuses @thecapodomme @thecookiebratz @browngirldominion @babybratzmaraj @kstaxks @kprivqooo @life-in-the-slut-house @euphoric05 @euphorichappiness10 @last-lost-one @lavnderluv @earthchica @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hxneyclouds @cvpidvsq @liatreads
Warnings: +18, violence, biting, dirty talk, praise, spanking, werewolf Terry, use of a gun, use of weapons, use of magic, fluff, soft Terry, aftercare.
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Her deep brown eyes fixed on the window with her face resting on her right palm as the raindrop fell from the grey clouds above and an occasional sigh left her lips, her back leaned against the plush beige armchair, surrounding the melanated woman were the four walls painted in a soft lavender hue, Paramore's "Decode" softly played in the background, She glanced at the television, showing her favorite childhood cartoon. The pitter-patter of raindrops firmly hitting the window and the scent of vanilla filled the medium sized-living room.
"How did we get here? Well, I used to know you so well, But how did we get here?"
Zoe hasn't seen her boyfriend Terry in a few years, and despite searching for him with his mother, they have been unable to find any trace of him.
The presence of werewolves and vampires in the city has only made the situation worse, intensifying her concern for his well-being.
Zoe, a renowned werewolf slayer in the small two, devoted her life to eliminating these creatures.
Whenever someone required assistance, the person turned to her. However, Zoe carried the weight of disappointment for failing to find Terry, feeling she could have done more to save him.
"Please be okay Terry, I love you.." Zoe whispered, wiping a tear from her eyelid. Peacefully dozing off, she slowly closed her eyes.
For now, Terry will be in her dreams where everything is perfect and the way she wants it to be. As if he was standing right next to her, kissing her lips tenderly and telling her that he loved her. Resting her head on his chest, Right there.
Zoe's eyes abruptly opened as she tightly held onto the armrests of the armchair. She had awoken from her nap a few hours ago, and now the moonlight filtered through the beige curtains. Letting out a yawn and stretching her limbs, she stood up from the armchair.
Although she couldn't quite explain it, there seemed to be a compelling force calling her name, pleading for her to listen to its cry.
Zoe gracefully opened the door as she stepped toward the small garden of red roses. She closed the door behind her and seated herself on the short green grass.
The moonlight illuminated her dark brown skin. It was the full moon, the time when werewolves typically left the forest.
But whatever was calling her, it must have been Terry right?
Out of nowhere, a chill ran down her spine while her eyes widened slightly. The wolf moved in a circular motion, emitting a soft whine. Its deep brown eyes locked onto hers, and she noticed its striking resemblance to the one she had seen at the cafe's window the night before.
The wolf's unique black fur, and green eyes set it apart from the rest of the pack, and this memory flooded her mind.
Zoe swiftly retrieved her firearm from her belt and directed it at the wolf, her eyes narrowed in focus. As the wolf approached, barking fervently, she squeezed the trigger, causing a gunshot to reverberate through the forest.
The bullet struck him, causing blood to seep from his forehead. Undeterred, she fired again, shouting, "Stay away from me!" in vain.
Zoe puts her gun down on the porch and reached for her bat. In an instant, the wolf lunged towards her, prompting her to strike its face with the bat. The wolf retaliated by sinking its teeth into her arm, forcing her to cry out in agony.
Refusing to be defeated, Zoe punched the wolf in the face, causing it to fall to the ground. Blood trickled from her injured arm as she settled into her lawn chair, grimacing in pain.
Zoe swiftly snatched a medical kit, seizing a cotton swab and peroxide. She dipped the cotton swab in the bottle and gently applied it to the injury, wincing in agony at the sound of the sizzling liquid on her wound.
“Why did you come here? Do you know who I am?” she grumbled, wrapping the bandage tape around her arm with care.
She took another gaze at the wolf and arched her brows, Is this Terry? she mentally thought to herself. She had to know and now.
Zoe rose up from the rocking chair and heard it softly whine in pain on the grass, slowly walking toward the wolf.
"Terry is that you?" Zoe asked him, her hands cupping his cheeks and she pressed her forehead against his, gently caressing the crowd of his head.
Terry gave her a brief nod while taking a few steps away from her. At the same time, she rose from the grass, and a beautiful red light surrounded the wolf, illuminating the small garden.
Her eyes closed to shield against the brightness, she instinctively moved back a few steps. Meanwhile, Terry was transforming back into a human.
She gradually lifted her eyelids to reveal a man standing in front of her, his chiseled chest bare and his black pants and belt fitting snugly around his slim waist.
Framed his handsome face, wherein his deep brown eyes shine from a crimson shade to their usual color.
Zoe swiftly ran towards him and hugged him tightly in a warm embrace, his arms slithered around her body as he rested his chin on top of her head, "I missed you so much, why did you leave me?" She asked him, her voice trembling.
Terry exhaled deeply to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words to say to his girlfriend. "I missed you too, I was afraid that you wouldn't see me as the same person, I was scared baby," he replied, kissing her forehead softly.
Zoe gently held his face in her hands, passionately kissing him. She remembered his plump, soft lips, and as their lips broke apart with a gentle smack, her nails ran through his locs while she warmly smiled at him.
"You may have changed but you're still the same person to me Terry, don't you ever forget that baby." Zoe told him, wiping her tears away from her eyes.
“My bad for bitin’ you, Zoe,” Von apologized to her, kissing her bandage arm lovingly.
“It's okay but don't you ever do that shit again, i could've killed you if that battle kept going!” Zoe shot back, swatting him in the arm. Her boyfriend winced in pain.
The couple headed back inside her house with their light chuckles filling the air, so many questions flooded her mind as the couple talked about everything.
Her career as a werewolf slayer and his new life as a werewolf but she wanted to know his story.
The couple were seated on the couch eating their meal as they watched a movie, “How did you become a werewolf T?” Zoe asked, arching her brows. “If you don’t mind me asking..” she added, blushing bashfully.
Terry sighed as he ran a hand through his locs, contemplating how to answer Zoe's question.
"It's a long story, baby," he began, his voice filled with sadness.
"After I disappeared, I found myself in a dark place. I was isolatin’ myself from the world but I walked outside, it was full moon." Terry replied, his nails sunk into the armrest of the couch.
Zoe face etched with concern as she listened, her fingers intertwined with his.
"I stumbled upon a group of werewolves, my only choice was to run. I tried to fight them off but they bit me so many times. I couldn’t keep count." He replied, his voice shaking between his words.
“And then I felt this sharp pain through my body and all I saw was red, I became this. That’s why I had to hide. ” Terry explained, resting his face in his palm.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you baby, i wish there was some way that I could help you—“ Zoe was cut off by her boyfriend shaking his head again. He diverted his attention to the television.
Terry shrugged his shoulders as he shook his head, “It’s okay, I’ve could’ve used to this shit.” He told her, he cupped her face in his tatted hands.
His tongue ran across his lips as his eyes fixed on her lips, “The only that matters is that I got you and my mama, I missed you.” He spoke softly, pecking her lips again.
Terry tenderly lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, where the couple passionately kissed and embraced.
The duo lay on the bed, the slight creak filled the room, he lovingly buried his face in her neck and litterd kisses across her face, neck, and collarbone.
The pair swiftly undressed, consumed by their desire for each other.
“How about we make up this time?” Terry whispered in her ear, his hands gripping her legs as he rested them on top of his shoulders, he gently slides his dick between her folds and they both moaned together.
“Y-yes...please..” Zoe moaned softly, his tongue licking the wound on her arm, yellow sparks flying in the air.
The wound vanished quickly, and a warmth enveloped them both, binding their souls together in an intimate embrace.
Terry's deep brown eyes locked onto Zoe's, filled with a mixture of love and longing. "You know I never wanted to hurt you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I was just scared... scared of what I might become."
Zoe's heart raced as she felt the heat radiating off him. "You’re still you, Terry. No matter what form you take, I will always love you,” she reassured him, her hands exploring the contours of his body, tracing the lines of his muscles.
He chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through her. "You’re really okay with this? With me being a werewolf?"
Zoe nodded, her lips curling into a smile. "I’m a werewolf slayer, remember? I've faced worse. Besides, you’re still my Terry," she said, pressing her forehead against his.
His expression softened as he leaned in closer, their breaths mingling. "Then let’s make tonight ours," he whispered, sealing his promise with a fervent kiss.
His hips rolled into the brown-skinned woman with passion, peppering kisses along her neck. His lover moaned loudly and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Oh..fuck..Terry!”
Suckling on her right nipple made her shiver and her pussy clench around his dick, “You're so fucking wet just like I remember, this is still my home..” Terry groaned possessively,
Tears threatened her vision and rolled down her cheeks, spanking her ass roughly as Terry sent her into cloud nine. “Y-Yessss! I’m still yours!” Zoe cried out harshly, her mouth wide open. The bed creaked underneath their weight.
He meant every word, every thrust. Skin-to-skin slapping made his ears perk up, The wetness from the woman completely covered his thick, long dick. He moaned in her ear, “Don't you hear how good this pretty little pussy sounds?” he groaned.
Zoe nodded and heavily panted knowing she couldn't respond back, moving her hips with his at the same pace, “Fuckkkk…Terry!” she screamed out, crying as if she was breaking,
Her stomach tightened with quickness, he moaned with her again. He picked up the pace and watched her face scrunch up, feeling her essence gush all over his dick.
In response he felt his dick twitch indicating his climax and he pulled out, tendrils of his cum landed on her stomach as he moaned again, “What a pretty sight..” he whispered.
She almost dozed off until he gently picked her up bridal style, carrying her into the bathroom as he flipped the light switch. He turned the faucet, Zoe heard the squeak.
Filling the tub with foam soap, at the right temperature, You were placed in the tub, allowing the water to soothe the ache in your body and pussy, sighing blissfully. You watched him walk into the shower and proceed to wash himself clean.
You washed yourself clean from the weight of the day, you fell asleep in his bed with him. Beside his body, dressed in your clean panties and gray tee shirt.
As the sun began to rise, casting golden hues through the window, Terry made a silent vow to herself. To always be by your side and never leave.
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#black!reader#black fanfiction#black fantasy#black writer#terry richmond#terry richmond x black reader#rebel ridge#aaron pierre
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