#Spicy Reads

[critical-love-cod]

Should’ve Locked the Door

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

A/N: I wrote and posted this one a while ago, and an ACTUAL doctor cringed at the way I had written the tending to of Ghost’s wound… but she loved the fic completely! So be aware, of how I wrote the treatment… but enjoy!

——• •••• ——— ••• —

“Hey, we’ve got another one.” One of the other nurses said.

“What is it?” I asked, reaching into one of the cabinets in my room and grabbing a pair of gloves.

“Gunshot to the arm. Upper arm.” She said. “He seems tough though.” With that comment, I knew exactly who it was. The nurse held the door open and in stepped Lieutenant Simon Riley. After he was all the way in, the nurse closed the door, leaving the two of us alone.

“Hello love.” Simon said, tightly grasping his right bicep.

“Lieutenant.” I replied with a smirk. He walked over to the cot and sat down. I approached him, stood on his right side and lifted the edge of his sleeve off of the wound.

“It just grazed me.” He stated. I pressed gently against his arm, causing him to suck air in through his teeth. I pulled back instinctively.

“Grazed you huh?” I repeated. Simon shook his head in defeat.

“Hurts like hell.” He said.

“Looks like it. I don’t see a bullet and there is an exit wound.” I told him, trying to calm his nerves. “So that’s good.” His body suddenly relaxed under my touch. I walked back over to the cabinet to grab some rubbing alcohol and gauze.

“You look beautiful.” Ghost said, his voice still shaky from adrenaline. I smiled to myself.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” I replied sweetly.

“You don’t have to call me that.” He told me.

“Yes I do. You and I are on duty.” I said, turning back to him again.

“Well then, as your patient, I’d prefer to be called Simon.” He said, watching my every move.

“As you wish, Simon.” I said, adding emphasis to his name. His eyes sparkled when I said it. “Are you able to get your shirt off?” I asked. I watched as he attempted to remove it with just his left arm. But he was unsuccessful.

“No.” He replied softly. I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. But I had to remain professional.

“May I?” I asked, pointing at the base of his shirt. Simon just stared at me, his gaze remaining gentle. I moved to stand in front of him and then I reached out for the bottom of the fabric. I slowly and carefully pulled the fabric upward, revealing Ghost’s toned abs and broad chest. My face grew warmer with each inch of skin that was revealed.

Ghost pulled his left arm through, allowing me to pull it over his head and down his right arm, leaving him in only his mask and army green cargo pants. I folded his shirt neatly and put it at the head of the cot, returning to the wound.

“You get shot often?” I asked, folding some gauze and pouring some rubbing alcohol on it.

“Oh yeah, all the time.” Ghost said in a playfully sarcastic tone. I looked at him with a smile, approaching his right side again.

“This might burn.” I said softly. He shrugged.

“Just don’t count down. Talk to me.” He said, looking up at me. I felt his right knee rub against the side of my right thigh. I smirked at the feeling, trying to remain in control of my senses. I met his gaze before speaking.

“What would you like to talk about?” I asked, keeping my eyes focused on his.

“I don’t know. I’m not very good at conversation.” He admitted.

“What are you good at?” I asked innocently. He scoffed playfully. “No, I mean like, what are your talents?” I asked again, wording my question a little better. I saw his smile through his eyes. The way his bottom lid covered his eyes slightly made my heart skip a beat.

“I can take a bullet pretty well.” He remarked. I smiled, holding his gaze as I quickly pressed the soaked gauze to his wound. Ghost sucked air in through his teeth again and his left hand shot out from beside him, grasping onto my hip. I stumbled a bit against the force of his hand, but I remained still, pressing the wound. His eyebrows furrowed in pain, but he held eye contact with me.

“Sorry.” I whispered, leaning into his touch a bit. He blinked slowly, as if in a daze.

“Don’t apologize.” He said softly, his thumb brushing against my hip back and forth. I dabbed the wound a few more times before grabbing another piece of gauze and putting more rubbing alcohol on it. I pressed it onto his arm again, causing him to squeeze my hip. It didn’t hurt, but it would leave a mark for sure.

After his wound was completely clean and dry, I started to move away to grab self-adherent wrap, but Ghost’s grip on my hip tightened.

“Wait.” He said.

“What is it? Did I hurt you?” I asked, searching his eyes for something. Anything. I placed my right hand over his left, which remained on my hip.

“No. I just want you to stay.” He admitted. His eyes were pitiful.

“Simon, I’m just walking to the cabinet.” I said, smiling sweetly. I had tended to Simon before and he was never this clingy. I don’t know what happened all of the sudden. He lifted his injured arm a bit to rest on my other hip. “Your arm, Simon.” I said frantically.

“Doesn’t hurt.” He said quickly. He then pulled me into him, causing me to fall forward a bit. I grabbed onto his shoulders, the warmth of his skin sending a comfortable chill down my spine. “Not close enough.” He mumbled, pulling me so my right leg was in between his legs. I was now stranding just above his right thigh.

“Is this, um, close enough for you, Simon.” I asked, blushing a deep red as I looked down and saw our position. He wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me flush against his bare chest.

“Never.” He said, his eyes scanning my face. I smiled.

“I should really wrap your arm.” I told him, leaning down a bit.

“Just, give me this. Please. Just for a moment.” He begged, his eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room. I gave him a small nod, letting my hands fall slowly down the broadness of his back. I felt every ridge of a scar, his back rising and falling as his breathing became heavy.

“What if I want to kiss you?” I asked, pressing my nose to his on the mask.

“Roll the mask up a bit, love.” He replied, tilting his chin up a bit, pressing a covered kiss to my lips. I complied, bringing my arms up and gently grasping the fabric. “Faster.” He demanded. I did so, forgetting about neatness and just pulling it up above his nose. Ghost tugged on my body, pulling me into him, practically begging me to do… something.

“May I?” I asked just like I did before taking his shirt off. He groaned, and pulled me downward, making me straddle his thigh.

“Stop asking permission for things and just do them.” He said sternly. Then he pressed his lips firmly on mine. I kissed back with force, letting him know that I wanted everything he did. His body was so warm and practically shaking with desire. He tugged on my shirt in hopes of pulling me impossibly closer. I was doing just the same, gently clawing at his back in desperation.

Then I felt his tongue fighting with my own. I was quick to give up though, wanting to taste him in every way that I could. His teeth hit mine aggressively as he tried to lick the deepest corners of my mouth.

“Sorry.” He muttered against my lips. I just giggled and pulled him back in by the back of his head. His left hand was on my lower back, dragging me closer to him against his thigh. I sighed at the feeling, tilting my head to get a better angle on his lips.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, L.T.” A voice came from the doorway. I jumped off of Ghost, standing up straight and looking over to see who the voice belonged to. Ghost was startled as well, but he did a better job of hiding it as he slowly pulled his mask back down and looked over at the door.

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny!” Ghost shouted in frustration. Soap was just standing there, leaning against the doorway, arms folded over his chest, and a smile plastered on his features.

“Soap…” I muttered, burying my face in my hands for a moment. I then proceeded to walk to the cabinet, grabbing the wrap I needed to finish tending to Ghost’s wound.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ghost asked.

“Only about,” Soap looked at his imaginary watch. “Two minutes maybe.” He said with a chuckle. I sighed, approaching Simon again.

“Go get off somewhere else, McTavish!” Ghost yelled. Soap playfully saluted him.

“You got it, L.T.” He replied, turning to close the door. After it clicked shut, Ghost sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Next time, we’re locking the damn door.” Ghost said, looking up at me. I looked down at him as I finished wrapping his arm.

“Next time?” I asked. “You better not get shot on purpose just to do this again.” I smirked. He scoffed.

“Now why on Earth would I do that?” He teased.

“I’m free tonight.” I mentioned softly.

“It’s a date.” He replied, standing from the cot and grabbing his shirt. “Thank you.” He gestured to his bicep before pulling his shirt back on.

“And thank you.” I said, tapping my lips. He shook his head and bent down to press a masked kiss to my lips. Then he turned to leave.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He remarked.

“Don’t. Not worth it.” I replied. He glanced back at me once more before disappearing out of sight.

-Time Skip-

I looked over at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was now midnight. Which meant shift change. I began tidying up my room, putting supplies away, and straightening up the cot. My mind raced with thoughts of only a few hours before. Had I really done that? Had I really made out with the one and only Lieutenant of the 141?

I tried to shake the thoughts from my head so I could focus on getting out of here and to my quarters. Suddenly, there was a quiet knock on the door. I glanced over at the door, and then looked back at where I had started sweeping.

“Come in.” I said, loud enough for whoever it was to hear. I assumed it was the nurse that would be taking my place. But as I swept, with my back to the door, I quickly realized it was not. I took a few more steps back, sweeping as I walked, when I ran into something tough and yet soft. I turned and saw Ghost standing there.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, averting my gaze so he wouldn’t see the red creeping onto my cheeks.

“Uh, my arm hurts?” He said sarcastically. I looked over at him, and saw him smiling. His eyes were easy to read when he wanted them to be.

“Does it?” I asked, slightly concerned.

“No. I just came to see you.” He admitted. I slowly nodded my head, continuing to sweep.

“I’m surprised you’re up.” I told him. He shrugged.

“I’m used to it.” He replied, walking over to sit on the chair in the corner of the room. I finished sweeping, dumping all the dust and little pieces of trash into the trash can beside the door.

“You here for much longer?” Ghost asked. I looked around the room and then slowly shook my head.

“No actually I’m done. The other nurse should be here any minute.” I replied, walking to the cabinet to grab my stuff. I felt his eyes on me, watching my every move. It felt a bit like I was being hunted. Like he was the predator and I was prey. But, not in an uncomfortable way.

As I grabbed the last of my things, I saw the other nurse walk into the room. She stood staring at Ghost for a moment, in an almost frightened manner.

“It’s alright. He’s leaving in just a second.” I spoke up, hoping to calm her nerves. Ghost slowly stood from the chair and walked over to me. “Ready?” I asked, turning to look up at him. He nodded once and headed for the door.

Once we were out of the room, Ghost seemed to relax a little. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“Are you alright?” I asked, breaking the silence of the empty hallway. “You seem tense.” I heard him chuckle.

“I’m alright.” He replied simply, making it obvious he didn’t want to talk any further about it. I nodded slightly, and continued walking beside him.

“So where are you taking me?” I asked, reaching out and looping my right arm around his left. He bent his elbow to engulf my arm and then answered.

“Where would you like to be taken?” He asked, glancing down at me. The way he had asked the question held many thoughts and feelings. The tone of his voice was playful and yet seductive. I stepped a bit closer to him before answering.

“Heaven.” I said softly, hoping the tone of voice I used was right for the occasion. Ghost’s arm tightened over my arm, keeping me close.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied, his voice low and deep. His pace picked up almost instantly. I noticed that we were heading toward one of the dorm halls.

“Mine or yours?” I asked, trying to keep up with him.

“Mine.” He answered, his eyes staying forward. We turned left and then walked about four doors down before Ghost stopped and pulled out his room’s key.

“Simon.” I whispered. Just then, he got the door open and stepped inside, gently pulling me in behind him.

“Simon.” I said again.

“Yes, love?” He replied, starting to take his gear off and tossing it wherever.

“Um, what if someone finds out?” I asked. He raised an eyebrow.

“So?” He replied. I could almost see the smirk on his lips through the mask. I rolled my eyes playfully and watched him remove the rest of his gear. My back remained pressed up against his door, my heart pounding in my chest. As he pulled his vest over his head, he looked over at me, his eyes flashing a look of concern.

“Everything alright?” He asked, walking to his dresser and laying the vest on top of it. I nodded and he tilted his head. “You’re a terrible liar.” Ghost slowly approached me, the sound of his boots on the floor making my heart skip a beat.

“No, I’m fine. Really I am.” I lied. Ghost chuckled, now standing fully in front of me. He reached up with his right arm, brushing my hair back and placing his hand on the side of my neck.

“Talk to me, love.” He said softly, his hand trailing to the back of my neck now. I reached both of my hands up and placed them flush against his chest.

“I’m just nervous is all.” I told him. I looked up at him right as he raised his eyebrows.

“And?” He asked. How did he know there was more? I rubbed the fabric of his shirt gently, thinking of something to say that wasn’t the truth.

“Um,” I began. Nothing came to mind, so I decided to just tell him the truth. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh, my girl.” He said sweetly. His reaction caught me off guard. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” I smiled up at him and trailed my hands along his chest and up to his neck.

“Thank you, Simon.” I said softly, my eyes darting back and forth between his. He nodded slightly and held my gaze. Ghost took a deep breath, and trailed his left hand along my waist, fiddling with the bottom of my shirt.

“Is this okay?” He asked, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Mhm.” I responded, closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth of his touch. His calloused fingers tickled my skin as he trailed up my lower back and pulled me closer to his body. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel his gaze scanning my face. His right hand left my neck for a brief moment, causing me to open my eyes.

“Mask.” He said softly. I watched as he reached behind his head, grabbed the fabric and pulled it over his head. It felt like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. He was beautiful. No, handsome. He was everything. Chiseled features, strong face, and eyes full of emotion. I gasped silently at the sight.

“You look amazing.” I whispered. He bent down a bit, his lips hovering above mine.

“Thank you, love.” He replied. His hands left my body all together, balled into fists and pressed against the door on either side of my head. “May I?” His eyes glancing down to my lips and then slowly looking back up at my eyes.

“Don’t tease me.” I whispered with a giggle, pulling him closer by the back of his neck. He smirked and then gently pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was sweet and slow. I breathed him in, slowly tangling my fingers in his messy hair. He pulled back for a split second, then kissed me again, this time with a bit more force.

His left hand left the door behind me and found its way to the back of my neck again. He pulled me into him, tilting his head to mold his lips to mine. I did the same, kissing him with equal passion. Then I felt his right hand on my waist, clenching it into a fist around my shirt. He started walking backwards, pulling me with him, his lips never once leaving mine.

I heard his bed creak under his weight as he sat down. Then he hooked his arms around the back of my knees, picking me up and setting me on his lap. I wrapped my legs slowly around his lower back, holding him against me as tight as I could. Then I felt him lick my lips, begging for entrance. Before I let him in, I pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked softly, though I could tell he was desperate.

“The door.” I said simply. “We should lock it shouldn’t we?” He smiled, and stood up, keeping me close to him. He reattached his lips to mine, kissing me softly as he walked to the door. I heard it click, confirming that it was locked.

I opened my mouth for him now, resting in the fact that we were now safe from anyone walking in on us. His body trembled excitedly as his tongue made contact with my own. He rutted up against me as I bit his tongue gently. I sighed into his mouth, pulling him closer and closer until it was hard to breathe.

“~Simon,” I whispered against him.

“Shh.” He cooed, moving from my lips and down to my neck.

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

☞︎𝑅𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈☜︎

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝑮𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒕𝑿𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: NSFW, Angst, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Enemies to Lovers, Gore, Size Difference, Trust Issues, Power Imbalance

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 6K

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: The woods are no place for a dancer, but when you’re forced to flee a life that isn’t your own, the only option is to follow the whispers of a bard and the promise of a Witcher’s protection.

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I’m so excited to share this with yall, as it might be one of my last fanfics for a while because I want to shift towards OC’s and fleshing out a few ideas for potential books. Anywho, hope you guys like it. Banners by @cafekitsune !

𝐸𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 🖤

There’s something about the silence in the woods that’s wrong—like it’s holding its breath, waiting for you to slip. The woods are thick with mist, the air damp and heavy, clinging to your skin like a warning.

You should have stayed at the inn; you should’ve kept your head down. But you didn’t. Not this time. And now you’re in a place you don’t belong, looking for a man who’s more myth than man.

Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher.

You don’t know what you’re expecting to find when you locate him. In the stories, he stands out in every room; he shouldn’t be hard to find—which were your exact thoughts when you left the inn and headed into the forest that Jaskier said the Witcher would be riding in from. It was only a 20-minute walk, and you had been waiting on this supposed White Wolf since the break of dawn. Every step forward is a gamble and the moment you step into a clearing, you realize you’ve lost the bet.

The clearing is not empty. It’s filled with the noise of metal on bone, of vicious growls and heavy breathing. You freeze. A figure cloaked in battle-worn leather is in full swing against… what is that thing?

He’s fighting—fighting something—someone. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into danger without meaning to, but this time, it’s different. This isn’t the same as a drunken noble’s leering hands or a back-alley brawl. No, this is life or death.

You should leave. You know you should. But you don’t.

You step forward, not thinking, not planning.

“Geralt!” You call out, way too loudly.

He doesn’t even flinch in your direction.

The sword in his hand moves with terrifying ease, slicing through the air. It’s the creature, that thing, some twisted shape of beast and man, that’s the focus of his ire. You’re invisible to him.

The creature, too quick, too feral, lashes out. Its clawed hand strikes, barely missing Geralt but connects with a nearby tree, shredding the side of it.

The world seems to stop as Geralt’s focus shifts. His eyes snap to you, and a single syllable leaves his lips.

“Run.”

You don’t.

Instead, you take a step forward, propelled by some stupid instinct to survive—or maybe it’s something else. Maybe it’s the gnawing knowledge that waiting any longer will leave you trapped in a life that isn’t yours. And right now, even this forest, this creature, this man, feels safer than the suffocating pull of the noose tightening back home.

“Geralt, I—”

The words choke in your throat as the creature turns its attention to you. It’s fast, rabid, and it’s snapping at anything in its reach. Geralt curses under his breath, his shoulders tensing as his blow slices into the leg of the creature. The monster’s blood splatters across his face, and he doesn’t flinch. He never flinches. But when he steps toward you, when his movements are a blur of motion, you feel the urgency—the danger.

There’s a flash of light, the sickening crack of bone, and the creature drops. Silence.

The thing lies crumpled at Geralt’s feet, its twisted form unnervingly still. The quiet that follows is asphyxiating, pressing in on your ears as though the forest itself has collapsed inward. Your fists tremble, but you keep them closed at your hips, forcing yourself to hold steady. The fear claws at the edges of your resolve, but you push it down, shove it deep where it can’t stop you. You’ve survived worse—or at least you tell yourself that you have.

Geralt straightens, his blade dripping with something too dark to be blood. His gaze is on the corpse, but you know, you can feel, that he’s aware of every breath you take. He wipes the blood from his blade with a cloth you don’t remember him pulling out, his movements methodical and swift. The weight of his attention shifts to you slowly, like a hunter debating whether the effort of pursuit is worth it.

“What,” he begins, his voice low, “are you doing here?”

It’s not a question. It’s an accusation, one that cuts deeper than you thought it would. His eyes, yellow, and cold as winter’s wrath, meet yours, and it’s as if the forest stops breathing again.

You can’t find your voice immediately. The scene, what’s left of the creature, the way the Witcher’s chest heaves, the still-damp blood streaked across his face, pins you in place. Your words stumble out before you’ve fully caught them.

“I—Jaskier—he said—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s lips press into a thin, humorless line. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked earth. He towers over you now, his expression carved from stone.

“Do you have a death wish?”

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t give you room to breathe, the question hanging there like a snare waiting to snap shut. His lips tighten, and for a moment, he looks as though he might simply turn and leave you standing there. But he doesn’t. Instead, his hand lingers near his sword, his jaw clenched tight.

“You shouldn’t be here, much less yelling my name in the middle of the forest. Jaskier told me to meet a woman by the name of—“

He takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, making his distaste for his next words. “The Court Swan, at the inn. I’m assuming that’s you?” His words are laced with disbelief, as if Jaskier has played one of his infamous jokes on him about your nickname.

You hesitate before nodding. “Yes. That’s me.” You take a step forward, ignoring the shake in your knees. It’s a dance, you tell yourself. Every movement calculated, every breath measured.

Geralt studies you with a scrutiny that feels more invasive than any gaze should, like he’s peeling back every layer of pretense with those sharp, wolfish eyes. You’ve felt the prestige of a royal audience before, the way their eyes skim over your form with detached judgment, but this is something else. This is dangerous. He’s dangerous.

“You’re a dancer.” It’s not a question, but you hear the skepticism in his tone. He casts a wary glance around the forest as he continues. “Why is a dancer running errands for a poet?”

“I’m not—” Bile rises into your throat, and you swallow hard. You shift your weight, your boots sinking into the damp mud as your hands clench at your sides.

“I’m not running errands. I’m here because… because I saved his life.”

Geralt’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers behind his eyes, and a dry smirk etches across his lips. “And that turned into my problem how?” His voice remains flat, cutting.

The weight of his gaze, his questions, presses down on you, and suddenly you’re spilling the truth before you can stop yourself.

“The royals I dance for—danced for—found out. They didn’t like that I helped him.” You pause, swallowing hard. Geralt’s gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the sting of it, like a blade poised just above your skin.

“So they decided to punish me for it.”

He wipes his blade again, the motion deliberate, and sheathes it with a muted click. The admission hangs in the clearing, and for a moment, Geralt says nothing; neither of you moves, the world around you held at bay.

“I saved his life,” you repeat, your voice stronger now, gaining resolve. “Jaskier has these friends; they—” You pause, searching your pockets for the letter Jaskier sent with you to give Geralt. Finding the small envelope, you hold it up to him. “They’re victims of… one of the royals… habits.”

Geralt shifts slightly, his shoulders still tense, his eyes narrowing. “And what do you expect from me, exactly?” He grabs the envelope, it growing smaller the instant it leaves your hands and enters his. The forest presses in around you, the trees whispering secrets in the breeze, as if the woods themselves are listening and waiting for you to shatter under all this pressure while he opens the letter and reads it.

“Help,” you say, almost pleading. “I don’t know where to go or what to do. Jaskier said you might—that you know things I don’t.”

Geralt exhales sharply through his nose, the sound closer to a growl than a sigh. “Of course he did,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his damp, blood-matted hair. “And what exactly does he think I’m supposed to do? Take you in? Fight off your enemies? Play bodyguard for a dancer who thought it was a good idea to get involved in politics?”

“I didn’t ‘get involved,’” you bite back, heat rising in your cheeks. “I—” The words catch in your throat, shame and anger tangling together. “I didn’t have a choice. What do you know about me? What did Jaskier tell you?”

His eyes narrow further, the yellow of his irises growing colder, more assessing as he studies you. His staring is almost rude; you would have called him on it in any other situation. But you guess this is a situation where you too would be cautious of the strange girl coming to you for help. Especially in the middle of the woods. “Jaskier wasn’t being entirely honest when he mentioned my ‘help’,” he says finally, his voice low and deliberate. “Damien—Damien…?”

“Damien Clyde.” You clarify quickly, before the monster’s name can burn your tongue.

“Clyde,” Geralt repeats, testing the name as his eyes unfocus slightly. He shifts again, his gaze returning to the shadows of the trees around you. “I know Damien Clyde well—well enough to know that he’s ruthless.”

Geralt’s gaze returns to you, sharp and penetrating. “He’s got a lot of enemies,” he continues, his voice lower, almost a whisper. “But he also has a lot of loyal followers—people who will do anything to protect him. Even if that means hunting down a pretty little dancer.”

“Which is why I need your help,” you say, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “I’m not asking for much. Just a place to hide, a way to keep ahead of his hunters—”

“You’re asking for a miracle,” Geralt cuts in, his voice sharper now, a low exclamation that seems more a reaction than an accusation. “And that’s not something I can provide.”

You feel the strike of his words like they were physical, your heart sinking. “I don’t know what else to do,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need something—someone—who knows the way Damien thinks, knows how he operates.”

Geralt looks at you then, really looks, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find some hidden truth there. “And what makes you think I can help with that?” he ventures, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “What do you think I know about Damien Clyde that you don’t?”

You hesitate for a moment, considering his question. “You’ve faced monsters like him before,” you finally say, your voice firm, though the anxiety still ripples through you. “You know what makes them tick. Damien is a monster in his own right, just… different. I think you’ve seen enough to understand,” you insist, your voice holding onto that firmness despite the doubt that claws at you. “More than most.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch out between you while he contemplates your words. When he does reply, it’s with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits, his voice low and laced with frustration as he crumbles the letter in his hand. “But I can’t leave you to fend for yourself either.”

“Then what can you do?” You countered, desperation edging into your tone. You take a quick step, closing in on his personal space. His whole body tenses, and if you thought he was scary before, getting closer only tripled his effect. Regardless of his enhanced presence, you keep his gaze, your head tilting up as you add, “If it’s not a miracle, what’s left?”

Geralt takes a deep breath, his jaw flexing as he peers down at you. “I can give you a head start,” he states, his arms crossing while he rolls his shoulders. “I know some places, some people… ways to get you out of sight for a while, to keep you safe. But Damien’s going to keep coming after you.”

You shake your head, your eyebrows furrowing before you speak up, your voice rising slightly. “No, I’m not leaving your side. You know how to evade him; you know everything I need to know in order for me to live. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Geralt’s eyes slim, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his options, before letting out a slow breath. “Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, as if cursing the situation more than you.

“You’re asking for more than I can give,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “But for now… I guess it’s enough.”

“Then let’s go,” you cut in, determination in your voice as you turn and start walking deeper into the woods. Geralt doesn’t move immediately, watching you with a mix of frustration and something darker—resignation, perhaps. Finally, he sighs and shouts, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You stop, confused, and turn back to him. “What? I thought—”

“Wrong way,” Geralt interrupts, his tone sharper than you expected. He glares at you, and his eyes flick around the woods as if he’s checking for threats.

“Rule one: always follow me.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the sudden correction. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t think,” he cuts in, his voice tinged with frustration. “Keep close and do as I say. No more running off, no more going your own way. No more thinking, just listen.”

You swallow, nodding quickly as you step back to where he stands, his judging eyes never leaving you. “Got it,” you say, trying to keep your voice from wavering. “Lead on.”

Geralt grunts, but there’s a hint of reluctant approval in his eyes as he turns and starts walking again, this time in the right direction.

“Let’s move,” he mutters, not looking back to see if you’re following. “And keep your head down.”

 

 

One Month Later…

 

The forest and a small, tucked-away hut have become a sanctuary for the two of you, away from prying eyes and the ever-watchful hunters sent by Damien. The rules that Geralt laid down—the ones you initially dismissed with an eye roll or two—are now second nature. Rule one: always follow him. Rule two: don’t ask questions unless he allows it. Rule three: never assume you’re safe. They’re becoming etched into your memory as much as the steps you now take in combat.

You haven’t felt this alive in years. Every day is a test, a dance of a sort. Although you did miss just dancing. It’s grueling, Geralt’s training regime, but it’s given you purpose.

Today, the clearing outside the tiny hut is quiet, the only sound being the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Geralt is off to the side, sharpening his sword with deliberate strokes. You approach him, your own blade feeling unfamiliar in your hands. It’s a strange sensation, not just the weight of the sword but the unfamiliarity with its use.

“Come on,” Geralt says without looking up, his voice rough from disuse. “You’re better than this. Focus.”

You take a deep breath, gripping the hilt tightly. He watches you from beneath his tousled white hair, his eyes sharp as always. It feels as if he can see right through you, to the fear and doubt lurking beneath your surface.

“Show me,” he instructs, his eyes never leaving yours and his tone even. “What you’ve learned.”

You move forward slowly, cautious. The blade feels like a stranger’s hand in yours, and you thrust forward with a hesitant jab. It’s clumsy and weak, nothing like the smooth, deadly movements you’ve seen him perform. Geralt barely reacts, just steps back and shakes his head.

“Again,” he orders, his voice low. “But faster this time. You’re thinking too much.”

You nod, trying to ignore the way his gaze follows your every move. There’s an intensity to his focus that makes you want to prove yourself, to show him that you’re not just a dancer who stumbled into his world by accident. You gather your courage and lunge again, more confidently this time.

Geralt blocks the strike effortlessly, his own blade moving in a blur as he counters with a series of rapid jabs. You dodge, your heart pounding in your chest as you scramble to keep up. Each strike feels like it could be the last, and the sweat on your skin isn’t just from exertion—it’s fear.

“You need to relax,” he says, lowering his sword and stepping closer. “Focus on your breathing. You’re too tense.”

You try to listen, but the pressure of the situation—of Damien, of everything you’ve left behind—makes it hard. “It’s not that easy,” you admit, your voice shaky with toil as you lower your own blade. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Why did you agree to this?”

Geralt’s cheek twitches slightly as he looks at you, his eyes keeping yours for a moment too long. “You’re not the only one who needs to survive,” he says, his voice low. “I took on your burdens the moment you screamed my name in those woods. Your end will be mine; that’s assured.”

You swallow hard, feeling something tighten in your chest. “So this is just about survival?”

He hesitates, then steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against the blade in your hand. “Maybe,” he admits quietly. “But it’s more than that. You’re not just some dancer to me anymore, are you?”

“What does that mean?” you ask, your voice on the edge of silence.

Geralt hesitates again, then steps back, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Later,” he says, his tone clipped. “Let’s just finish for today.”

Disappointment floods through you, and you don’t bother to hide it. Your hand gripping the hilt of your blade harder. “Fine,” you mutter, squaring up to him. “Later.”

Geralt watches you for a long moment before raising his blade, stretching it out between you two, his hand steady and practiced.

“Rule one,” he says, his gaze locked in on your eyes, “always follow me.”

You fight with a ferocity you didn’t know you had, pushing yourself to keep up with his quick movements. Every thrust and parry brings you closer to frustration. Your arms ache, the weapon in your hands feeling heavier with each swing. It’s a cruel reminder of your mortality, how little separates you from failure.

Geralt’s moves are sharp as he counteracts each of yours with ease. “Focus,” he snaps after one particularly errant swing. Another parry, another twist of his wrist, and your strike falters… Again.

“You’re letting your emotions get in the way.”

Of course I am, you bastard. I’m not a machine.

“I don’t have time for this!” You bark, your anger bubbling over. Your vision blurs; whether from sweat or tears, you can’t tell. “I don’t have time for you and your rules, Geralt! I need to find a way out!”

His face darkens, the pale skin stretched tight over a grimace as he steps back, and you hate the way your stomach twists at the sight.

Why does his silence feel like a punishment? Like I failed some mysterious test?

“Then leave,” he says, his voice calm and flat, dangerous in its restraint. “Go somewhere else. I’m not stopping you.”

You freeze; your sword dips, the blade scraping the dirt. “You know I can’t,” you mutter, teeth clenched against the truth as you abandon your blade. Your eyes are barely able to lift from the ground to meet his as you continue, ”he’ll find me. And if I go alone—“

“Then you’ll end up dead,” he growls, finishing for you, his eyes hardening. “And Damien will still win.”

I know that. I know that, but do you think I want to hear it? Do you think I haven’t imagined my own corpse lying in his shadow?

The thoughts press down on you, but your voice cuts through them, bloody and breaking. “Then help me!” you yell, your voice cracking. “Don’t just stand there, judging me and shit! Fight for me!”

An unmistakable glow overtakes his eyes, fire behind the gold. His tone lowers, softer now but somehow more threatening. “Is that what you want?” He’s in front of you in seconds, his long legs carrying him quickly and placing him inches away from you. “You want me to fight for you?” He whispers, his head leaning down.

You take a shuddering breath, your heart pounding as you look up at him, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen it.

He’s testing me. Always testing.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking as the admission drags itself out of your chest. “Yes, I do.”

Geralt’s gaze softens ever so slightly, though his jaw remains tight. He reaches out and takes your chin gently between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his. “Then you need to fight for yourself too,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “I can’t do it alone.”

Haven’t I been doing that?

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes. “I’m trying,” you plea, your words shaking as they exit your mouth. “I just… I don’t know how.”

“Let me show you,” he states, his voice low and steady. “But you have to listen, and you have to trust me.”

Do I even know how to trust anymore? When was the last time someone asked me to? When was the last time I didn’t regret it?

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod, feeling smaller than you ever have.

How did I let it come to this? When did I become so helpless?

Your voice shakes as it leaves you, and your hand comes up to clutch your stomach. “I want to.”

His bright amber eyes search yours, as if looking for some kind of answer to this mess. “Good,” he finally replies, his tone soft and deep. “Then show me.”

He closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as his mouth captures yours in a kiss that’s both angry and gentle.

Angry and gentle. How is that even possible? How is he pulling me closer while it feels like he’s punishing me?

“Show me you can fight,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands tracing the curve of your neck, gliding down to your shoulders, urging you closer. “Show me you’re not afraid.”

Afraid?

You kiss him back, your movements clumsy, desperate, as if to prove something—to him or to yourself, you’re not sure. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling as they work to undo them. “I’m not,” you mumble, the words quaking. “I can handle this.” 

A low sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a hum, as he shrugs his shirt off the rest of the way.“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes, his voice rough.

His hands move slowly as he peels your shirt from your body, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s his mouth you feel most. You let out a soft gasp as his mouth reconnects with yours, then moves, trailing along your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as his hands roam down your back. His calloused fingers mix with the cool breeze, leaving goosebumps to emerge along your body.

He lowers his kisses down to your collarbone, hands slipping under your waistband to touch your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive curve. His hands are everywhere, on your waist, your back, your face, his lips never leaving your flesh, which causes your words to fly out with little thought. “Show me how to fight; I’ll listen this time.”

Is this what surrender feels like?

“I’ll show you, but first,” he promises as he leans down, hooking his hands under your thighs and lifting you. You cling to him as your heart hammers in your chest. “you have to let go.” He murmurs against your lips, the words less a challenge and more a demand.

Let go? Of all the things Damien has done? Of all those poor women? Or is he meaning let go of my old life, the one I worked so hard to achieve? Maybe he means all of it, and if he does, how am I supposed to just… let that go?

Your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you search his expression. His wet lips, his golden gaze, they’re too much, too honest. You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes tightly. “I don’t know how. I—I can’t.” You admit, your voice a fractured whisper.

“Yes, you can,” he says, the conviction in his voice stronger than your doubts. His eyes remain on yours as he carries you toward the hut, taking large steps while keeping a tight hold on you. “You’re stronger than you think.”

He doesn’t bother with closing the door as he maneuvers you inside, the hut’s worn frame groaning under the sudden shift in weight. You barely register the dim interior, your focus consumed entirely by him, his grip, his heat, the way he sets you down on the makeshift straw bed with a care that feels at odds with his rough edges.

His hands find your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks in a way that sends warmth spiraling through you. His lips crash into yours, this kiss deeper, hungrier.

“Just trust me,” he mutters against your mouth again, his breath warm as it mingles with yours. His hands are already at your waistband, his fingers deftly unfastening the fabric. “Trust me.”

How does he make it feel like he’s taking something from me and giving it back at the same time?

The words linger in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, before spilling from your lips. “I trust you.” You whisper as the faint rasp of fabric fills the space, his hands pushing your pants past your ankles.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers graze your skin. His hands, steady and searching, make their way down your body, his touch a mixture of need and tenderness. His mouth finds your neck again, lingering at the tender spot beneath your ear.

“What’s my third rule?” He questions, his voice a low growl while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

The words come to you like a reflex.

“Never assume you’re safe.” You reply, your voice barely a breath as his fingers brush against the sensitive skin between your legs. “Good girl,” he praises, the depth in his tone making the two single words vibrate through you.

I’m not safe. Not from Damien. Not from myself. Not from him.

“Don’t assume anything right now.” He commands, his hands starting a slow, deliberate tease against your clit.

“This is about trust,” he murmurs, his voice softening as his fingers find their way inside you, the sensation tame yet overwhelming. “Show me you trust me.”

You can’t hold back the moan that escapes you, your hands tangling in his hair. His thumb finds your clit, brushing it before circling the swollen nub with an infuriatingly slow pace.

“I trust you,” you gasp, clutching at him, desperate to pull him closer. “Please, Geralt.”

Please what? Please stop? Please keep going? Please make me forget everything but this?

His lips return to your neck, trailing a line of heat down to your collarbone, where he pauses, his breath fanning. "You keep saying it," he mumbles against you as two fingers curl inside you, his thumb stopping its circles as he shifts his focus to finding that sweet spot inside of you. "but trust is more than words." His teeth graze your shoulder, each edge marking your flesh with a maddeningly gentle scratch.

A choked gasp leaves you as his fingers find it, and he presses again, firm and deliberate, sending a jolt through you that makes your body arch into him. His lips curve into a smirk against your shoulder, his breath warm as he shifts his angle; his fingers press and release in rapid succession, as though he’s flicking a switch that ignites something molten inside you.

"Trust is letting go."

Letting go. The words land heavily, like a challenge. Your thoughts spin out of control, colliding with the steady rhythm of his touch. His fingers move deeper, his pace increasing ever so slightly, causing the most beautiful, juicy noises to leave your soaking heat.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything.

Your control splinters under the sensation, the rest of the world dissolving into nothing but the relentless pace of his touch and the way your body reacts to him. His thumb resumes its place over your clit, pressing firmly, circling, teasing, in perfect counterpoint to the rapid release and maddening pressure of his fingers inside you. It’s as if he’s playing you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you could make.

“Like that?” he murmurs, his voice low and knowing. The meticulous motion of his fingers quickens, not frantic but punishing, each thrust landing with perfect accuracy to help prove his point.

Your answer comes as a broken moan, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting into his toned muscles. “Come on beautiful,” he growls, his voice slicing through the haze, grounding you and yet setting you further adrift. “Don’t hold back.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command; an answer.

You can’t even think of resisting, not when his lips find the edge of your jaw, his teeth grazing the delicate curve with just enough pressure to make you shiver. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice a low mix of admiration and darkness. “That’s my good little dancer.”

His hand never falters, fingers thrumming inside you with care, his thumb rubbing your clit with a focus that borders on cruel. You’re unraveling, thread by thread, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but raw nerve endings responding to him.

This is surrender; you’re sure of it now.

“Geralt—” His name is a plea, a prayer you didn’t know you had in you.

“Let it happen, baby,” he murmurs, his golden eyes locking on yours while his free hand grasps the inside of your thigh, spreading it open further. The calluses on his palm feel rough against the tender skin, a downright opposition to the soft, devastating rhythm of his other hand. “Don’t fight it.”

You don’t even know what it is anymore. The trust he keeps demanding? The fear you’ve been holding onto like a lifeline? Or this—a brutal, undeniable pleasure that’s tearing you into eight million different pieces?

Your hips buck against his hand, chasing every stroke, every press, every flick of his fingers as if they’re the only thing keeping you alive. And maybe they are.

He leans in, his lips brushing over yours—not a kiss, not exactly. Just a breath, a glimpse of contact that steals the air from your lungs. “You’re close,” he says, his voice so deep it almost sends you over. “I can feel it.”

You shake your head, a wordless denial, though you don’t know who it’s meant for.

“You are,” he insists, his fingers quickening, pushing deeper, as if to prove it. In seconds he’s replaced his thumb with his free hand, that thumb taking over and having a better angle to rub your swollen clit with more ferocity as his other fingers continue their assault against your sweet spot. Your body betrays you, the denial caught in your throat unraveling as your thighs quiver against his hands.

Your eyes shoot open, locking with his as his voice rings out, “And you’ll take it,” he says, his voice a low snarl. His eyes bore into yours, molten gold burning through the fog of pleasure clouding your mind. “You’ll take it because I’m giving it to you.”

“Geralt,” you manage to yelp, the name cracking on your lips as your nails dig into him.

“Don’t fight me,” he growls again, but there’s something different now; a hint of frustration, a flash of unapologetic desire. His pace quickens and he adds a third finger, thrusting harder, each motion a declaration of his lesson.

Your head tips back, your lips parting as you let out a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a sob, the pleasure climbing higher, threatening to crest.

“Yes, yes, baby,” he purrs, his voice softening but no less commanding. He leans in, his lips retaking their place by your ear. “Don’t you dare hold back now.”

You don’t. You can’t. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling every part of you, dragging you down until there’s nothing left but the electric pulse of your own climax.

“There she is,” he grunts, a harsh whisper against the shell of your ear. “Don’t stop now. I want all of it.”

The tension inside you coils tighter, until it pulls taut, stretching to the breaking point, then fractures, an eruption that floods your veins with unbridled energy and a rush of power. Cries tear from your throat, and your body convulses around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you shaking, gasping, unraveling completely in his hands.

He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop. And the sounds spilling from your lips are unrestrained, a language you don’t recognize but can’t suppress.

He watches you like he’s orchestrated the entire thing, some maestro of chaos and submission. “There,” he rasps, his voice dragging across your skin like gravel. “That’s what I wanted.” His lips trail and hover at the edge of your jaw, close enough that you feel every syllable. “No masks. No more dancing. Just you. ”

Your hands tremble against his shoulders, searching for some way to anchor yourself as the tremors pulse through you. He shifts, his movements slowing, fingers easing their pace but never truly stopping.

He’s still there, still consuming, like a river that flows faintly beneath a hidden surface.

“Look at me,” he breathes, and there’s no question in his tone. It makes your eyes flutter up to his, barely able to keep them focused on his face.

“Did you feel it?” he asks, his voice lowered, yet holding the same harsh charge. His fingers remain inside you, his other hand stills on your sensitive clit while his fingers inside rub small circular motions against your bulging g-spot. “That breaking point? That moment when you let it all go?”

You can only nod, your throat too raw for words.

“Good,” he says, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth—not quite a kiss, but enough to make your heart skip. “Remember it. Because that’s trust.”

[mrsriddles-blog]

Model | M.S

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, smutty scene, pregnancy, fluff, etc.

Summary: Unexpectedly, you hit it off with Matt at your new modeling gig for the Space Camp Lip Balm shoot.

"Alls Nick needs you to do is allow us to get some shots of you applying his lip balms. Try to look relaxed. For a few photos, make direct eye contact with the camera. Get into the vibe and just really try and feel yourself." Lora, your manager, says.

"I can do that." You murmur.

You were dragged off to the bathroom of the little set they've set up as some tropical themed location. You were given a black two piece swimsuit and they styled your hair while doing light makeup.

"What do you think?" The stylist asks her boss, Nick who stood with his brothers.

Nick looks at you and studies you as he realizes how professional you were compared to the other models that came in. The other models were all fan girls of him and his brothers, and to say the least...it was exhausting. Yet, your face was blank, and your eyes guarding any thoughts or worries you may be having.

"I like the black...but I almost think we need a color to make it pop...it needs to be yellow. Do we have a yellow cardigan thing?" Nick asks.

"Um...no." The stylist says slowly.

"Would my yellow button up work?" Matt asks.

"Try that. Go help her get that on and make sure her hair isn't tucked into the shirt." Nick says.

Matt motions you to follow him and you do. You admired his messy hair and his glasses in silence as he opened the door to the bathroom. He starts to unbutton the pastel yellow button up he wore to reveal a white tank top underneath it. He shrugs it off and your eyes follow his tattoos. His eyes follow yours and he smiles slyly.

"Like em'?" He asks as he helps you put your arms into the button up.

"Mhm. They look really cool. Does each one have a different meaning to you?" You ask softly.

He was thrown off by your velvety voice, but he somehow managed to keep his cool as he helps even out the button up and adjust your hair.

"Yeah...have you ever considered getting tattoos?" He asks.

"I want a lot, but it could affect my modeling career. My manager would kill me before I stepped foot into a tattoo shop." You say, a sad little laugh at the end.

"I'm Matt...Matt Sturniolo." He murmurs, his nerves getting the best of him as he prepared for a fan girl moment. 

"It's nice to meet you, Matt. I'm Y/n, but call me Y/n/n. I prefer it." You admit.

You didn't seemed fazed by his name and it was relieving to him. He looks you over slowly and Nick was right about it having to be yellow. He found himself liking the way you looked in his button up shirt. It went to about mid-thigh on you and it overall made you look even cuter to him.

"Well hold on there, Y/n/n...this collar is fucked up." He murmurs as he steps closer to you.

His hands brush down your neck, goosebumps following in their trail as you look up at him through your eyelashes unintentionally. He adjust the collar slowly before his eyes find yours.

"Has anyone told you how pretty you are?" He murmurs.

"I-I...thank you, Matt." You murmur, your cheeks flushing red.

He smirks slyly as he steps back. He has you do a slow turn so that he can make sure it's perfect and that Nick won't rip him a new hole.

"Alright, you look perfect. Almost think a white swimming suit would look good with a pink button up. I got one of those out in the car too." He murmurs.

"Thank fuck. It looks perfect." Nick says.

"What if you have her do a couple photos in a white swim suit with that pink button up I got in the car?" Matt suggests.

"Go grab it. So far we are doing good on time. The other model walked out. She was mad that I asked her to do more shots because she was too busy flirting with Chris." Nick sighs.

While Matt leaves, you were instructed on different poses by Nick. You stand by Nick as you both look over the shots.

"They all look great!" Nick exclaims excitedly.

It was the one shoot that went right. He admired your dedication to your work and the professionalism you had. There was a time and place for fooling around and another for being professional. You, thankfully knew the difference and for that, he was thankful.

"Alright, are you cool with us doing another shoot in a different outfit?" He asks.

"Yeah, of course." You say softly.

"The stylist stepped out for lunch." Laura, Nicks manager says.

"I can get changed and touch up my makeup and hair. It's not a big deal." You say, noticing the stress on Nick's face.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Mhm. And you can be honest when I come out and you're not a fan of the makeup or something. I can fix it." You say, trying to lighten the mood by smiling.

"You truly are the saving grace of today. Thank you." Nick says, a wave of relief washing over him.

You walk back to the room and grab your bag, even though typically the outfits are supplied. You had come prepared with options. You grab the white bikini set and put it on. You were trying to clasp the back, but you might've underestimated how small it was. The door opens and you look in the mirror to see Matt.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Nick said you were getting ready, but I assumed you were done changing." Matt says.

"Your okay! Actually, can you help me? I can't get this clasped..." You admit quietly, your cheeks flushing red as you catch him slyly smirk.

He closed the door and sets the button up over a chair. You move your hands to the front of the top to hold it in place as he clasps it.

"Hey, y/n/n?" He murmurs as he watches you adjust your top and bottoms.

"Hm?" You hum softly.

"Could I get your number?" He asks.

"Sure." You say softly with a smile.

He smiles and grabs the pink button up and helps you put it on. You sit and do some touch ups to your makeup before going into the light and neutral shades of eyeshadow and going in with pinks.

You talked with Matt, giving him your number. He made you laugh and smile way more than you had in a long time.

You walk out, the two of you talking about a movie you both had watched recently.

"I love the eyeshadow! It all looks perfect. The eyeshadow look and colors was a good choice." Nick compliments.

Soon you were doing different poses for different shots. You began to feel more yourself as you got further along. It wasn’t long before Nick, his brothers, and you were around the screen and looking at the shots.

The park was becoming more empty, but you continued to enjoy every moment with Matt. You were excited when he texted you and asked to hang out.

"Look, there's a Photo Booth!" Matt says, dragging you towards it.

It was small and had enough for one person to sit at most. Matt sits and pulls you down on his knee. He pays and you both start with a smile, then silly faces, but before you both could do the next pose, he was gently guiding you to look at him.

He leans forward, kissing you softly. You respond softly—almost unsure of what to do. You move your hands to his hair, gently tugging at it as you hold him closer.

You throw your leg over him, straddling him as you sit on top of the growing bulge. He pulls away, kissing down your jaw before kissing down your neck. He reaches out and puts another dollar into the machine.

He nips at your neck and you gasp. He unbuttons your shirt before standing and pinning you against the back of the photo booth wall.

"Y/n/n, we are going to do a little bit of a risky game." He breathes.

"W-What is it?" You whisper.

"When I tell you to put a dollar in, put one in and let it take photos of us. We don't know who's going to walk past this photo booth, but we are going to continue. Okay?" He asks.

"Y-Yeah." She breathes.

He hands her a wad of dollars he had gotten before their outing today. He gets on his knees and puts her legs over his shoulders.

"No panties? Dirty girl." He murmurs as he lifts your skirt.

Your cheeks flush red before you gasp as his mouth attacks your clit. You had done things before and you've been eaten out, poorly, which made you uncomfortable at ever trying it again. But, Matt knew exactly what he was doing. 

"M-Matt!" You moan, arching your back as your hips move to their own accord. 

You whine in frustration as his mouth leaves your clit. He looks up at you, his chin glistening with your juices.

"Put a dollar in, baby." He murmurs.

You lean down a bit and put the dollar in before leaning back against the wall. He grins before he goes back to eating you out. You throw your head back as you bury your hand in his hair, pushing him closer to you. He buries two fingers in you, thrusting them out slowly. You whimper as you grind against his face before coming. You pant as you slump against the wall.

"Fuck baby, you taste like heaven." He murmurs.

He helps you adjust you clothes before picking up all the pictures on the ground. He smiles as he starts to look through them. Your cheeks flush red at them, but you do think it added to the fun.

"Come on. Let's go to Walmart before they close." He murmurs.

"Walmart? Why?" You ask, following behind him.

"We are getting a Polaroid camera because that was fucking fun. Maybe a lock box because no one but you and I will get to see these pictures. You truly are meant to be a model, baby." He murmurs, taking your hand in his.

"Just one more!" Nick sighs.

The model continues to storm away, throwing down a book. Chris bites his lip before looking at his brother.

"I can go...so that they focus, y'know." He mumbles.

"No, no, you're fine." Nick sighs.

"Hey guys!" Matt says, walking hand in hand with you.

"Y/n/n! Thank god you're here!" Nick exclaims.

"What's wrong?" You ask, rubbing your swollen five month belly with your hand.

To say the least, Matt got a bit carried away with the thought of you having his baby. You didn't regret it though.

"Could we do some shots of you?" He asks.

"Um...Nick...I'm five months pregnant." You say confused.

"I do shots of you all the time. I think you look like a fucking goddess pregnant." Matt says with a sly grin.

Both his brothers ew and cover their ears as you smack Matt who was laughing.

"Not appropriate Matthew!" You scold.

"Come on, baby. Do a couple shots for him. What's five months of being pregnant gotta do with some shots?" He murmurs.

"Matt...typically for shots like this, you don't want a pregnant woman. The most shoots I've been able to get my hands on is maternity shoots. You typically want someone...skinner and prettier." You explain.

"Okay, let's start with the fact that you are fucking gorgeous and you are creating a human in there. We need to break the fucking stigma of wanting skinny and blonde models. Go get your ass to that dressing room and find something autumn like and get out here for some shots!" Nick rants.

You look at him, awed with his speech as your eyes tear up. He pales, raising his hands as if to surrender.

"Y/n/n, what's wrong?" He asks.

You let a sob out as Matt goes to grab you, but you pull Nick into a hug.

"That's just the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. You truly are the sweetest and most feminist man I know." You say.

"Aww, Y/n/n, you're okay." He murmurs.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. The hormones, y'know. Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've cried today." You say, pulling back to wipe your tears.

"What? You? There's no way." Nick says, although he knew you had probably cried like ten times today as Matt looks off and nods slowly as he remembers this morning.

"Oh yeah. I'm a whole train wreck...gosh, how does Matt even deal with me." You mumble as your eyes well up again.

"Hey, no tears. Matt loves you and you love Matt. And the both of you love this baby. It's okay to be a train wreck. But, you both will look back and laugh at these silly moments you've been having." Nick says softly.

You laugh and nod before Matt was gently guiding you to the dressing room.

[strawberryfairi]

I Want Her! — Ran Haitani

Pairings: Playboy! Ran Haitani X Black Fem Reader🤎 (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️)

Synopsis: He knew he had to have you the moment he saw you

Content. MDNI: smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), kind of a corruption kink vibe, sexual tension, playboy! Ran, good girl! reader

Word Count: 6.2k

The dim light of the party was softened by hues of amber and gold, and the hum of loud conversation rolled around him, occasionally punctuated by laughter. He wasn’t particularly interested in tonight, in the setting or the people, save for one. His current “distraction,” as he preferred to think of her, was hanging off his arm. She had introduced herself four months ago with the kind of confidence that didn’t impress him but didn’t repel him either. She was convenient, loud, and unassuming. She didn’t expect anything of him, which suited him just fine.

But then, in a moment that felt strangely and ironically cinematic, she called over someone.

Ran’s first clue that something was about to change was in the tone of her voice. There was an eagerness in the way she said her name—light, almost playful—“Oh, hey! I didn't think you'd actually come!” The inflection was so casual, so careless, and yet it carried a current of significance that Ran couldn’t have explained if asked. He lifted his gaze, mildly curious at best, to see who this friend was.

And then, she walked into his line of sight.

The world stopped. Or at least, it did for him. He didn’t hear her name when she said it, didn’t register the friend’s voice introducing her. All he could do was stare. His breath hitched, caught on an invisible hook in his chest, and his grip on the plastic cup in his hand tightened just slightly.

She was mesmerizing. The kind of mesmerizing that made Ran realize he’d been looking at everything wrong up until this moment. Her skin was deep-toned, glowing under the soft, golden lighting. She wore a chocolate-brown bodysuit that molded to her body like a second skin, paired with a short black skirt that seemed tailored to perfection. The color palette was understated yet commanding, effortless in its allure.

Her braided hair was styled half up, half down, the braids cascading down her back and framing her face. A pair of gold drop earrings caught the light every time she moved, and her thin gold chain necklace rested delicately against her collarbone. There was a simplicity to her choices—minimalistic, yes—but each piece added to an overall aura that was regal, almost unattainable.

Ran couldn’t help himself. His eyes lingered, trailing over her with a mix of awe and something darker—an undeniable lust that curled low in his stomach and set his nerves alight. She spoke, her voice low and smooth, but he couldn’t follow a single word. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to listen—he did, desperately—but her lips moved with a grace that distracted him entirely. The way her mouth curved around words made him feel like a fool, as though he needed to watch her lips just to sound out syllables in his own head. But even then, he failed to catch anything coherent.

It wasn’t just her appearance that threw him. It was the way she carried herself—calm, confident, as though she didn’t need to prove a thing to anyone in the room. It was such a stark contrast to her friend, who practically clung to him like an accessory. This girl—this woman—was different. She didn’t fidget or force her presence; she simply existed, and in doing so, she commanded attention. Her movements were deliberate but not exaggerated, her posture poised.

He didn’t even notice when she stopped talking until the silence hung heavy in the air. Blinking, Ran snapped back to reality, realizing with a start that he had entirely missed his cue to introduce himself. She was looking at him now, her gaze steady but unreadable, as though she were already dissecting his hesitation.

He subtly cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Ran,” He said, offering his name like it was the only piece of himself he could manage to give her in that moment.

Her lips curled into a small smile—a gesture that felt both polite and enigmatic. “Nice to meet you,” She replied, her voice still as smooth as honey and satin. He swore the sound of it lingered, wrapping around him and settling in his chest like a warm weight.

From that moment on, Ran knew. The girl who had been keeping him company for the past few months—whose name he couldn’t even bother to recall at the moment—was no longer relevant. She faded into the background, a blurry figure at the edge of his mind, eclipsed entirely by this new presence. This new girl.

She had become his focus, his singular goal. He didn’t know her yet, not really, but he knew enough to be certain of one thing: he wanted her. Badly.

Ran wasn’t used to struggling when it came to women. He was attractive and knew it, his sharp features and athletic build often enough to turn heads without much effort. Add in his natural charisma, and getting what he wanted was never an issue. But this felt different. This wasn’t just about getting her attention. It was about keeping it, holding it, bending it until it was solely focused on him.

His mind was already spinning with possibilities, calculating the best way to approach her, to reel her in. He wasn’t worried about failing; failure wasn’t an option. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something—or someone—with such intensity, and that made her all the more irresistible.

As the conversation shifted back to the friend, Ran found himself lingering near her, his presence almost overbearing. He didn’t mean to loom, but his height and the sheer force of his focus on her made it feel that way. Every time she shifted, his eyes followed, cataloging every detail. The curve of her neck, the way her earrings caught the light, the way her fingers rested on the edge of her glass. Every movement was a study in elegance, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the friend she had arrived with.

For a brief moment, she glanced up at him, her brow furrowing just slightly, as though she could sense his attention. Ran met her gaze, unflinching, and held it. Her eyes were sharp, discerning, and he felt an unexpected thrill when she didn’t immediately look away. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, a silent question hanging in the space between them.

He didn’t answer—not verbally, at least. Instead, he leaned in, his voice low as he finally addressed her directly. “What'd you say? I didn't hear you.” He said, feigning innocence. It was a lie, of course. He actually heard every single word, but he wanted to hear her speak again, to feel the cadence of her voice ripple through him.

She raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “I was just asking what semester are you?” She clarifies, her tone light but measured.

"Oh, fourth semester. I'm a sophomore."

Ran had always prided himself on his ability to read people. It was a skill honed through years of practice, trial, and error. Women, in particular, were like puzzles to him—ones he solved with ease more often than not. But this time was different. This girl wasn’t a puzzle with missing pieces he could fill in. She was a locked box, and Ran wasn’t even sure where to find the key. That thought alone exhilarated him.

He had seen her more often lately—just small glimpses around campus. At first, it had seemed coincidental. She was leaving the cafeteria as he was walking in, her hair catching the afternoon sun as she talked to a friend. Another day, he spotted her walking briskly toward her dorm building, earbuds in, seemingly in her own world. Each sighting was fleeting but enough to sharpen his focus, to remind him of why he had so easily discarded her friend.

The breakup had been quick and clean. His usual line came out with practiced ease, softened by a half-smile that never quite reached his eyes.

"You knew this wasn't gonna last forever, remember?"

It was late afternoon when Ran walked into the campus library. The tall, arched windows let in streams of golden light, the quiet hush of the space broken only by the occasional rustle of papers or the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Students were scattered throughout, some buried in books, others hunched over laptops, typing furiously.

He wasn’t planning to stay long—just coming to grab whatever stupid book his professor had told them all to get from the library—but then he saw her. She was seated at one of the long wooden tables near the far end of the room, her head bent over her laptop. A sleek presentation file was open on the screen, its slides filled with clean, precise text and diagrams. A girly spiral notebook lay beside her, filled with meticulous handwriting and neat bullet points. She was focused, completely unaware of her surroundings, and Ran felt his pulse quicken.

There she was: his challenge, his target.

He paused, leaning against the nearest bookshelf as he observed her for a moment. She was wearing a simple white turtleneck tucked into high-waisted jeans, her braided hair tied back today in a low ponytail. Her jewelry was just as understated as before—a small pair of gold hoops and a thin bracelet on her wrist. There was an elegance to her simplicity, a sense of refinement that made her stand out even in a sea of students.

Ran smirked. Making a move here, in this quiet and public setting, would require finesse. The thrill of it was intoxicating.

He walked over with the kind of confidence that turned heads, though he made sure to tone it down just slightly as he neared her table. His footsteps were soft against the carpeted floor, and when he reached her, he leaned down slightly, letting his voice drop to a low, friendly murmur.

“Looks intense,” he said, nodding toward her screen.

She startled, her head snapping up to look at him. For a brief moment, her expression was one of confusion, her wide eyes searching his face as if trying to place him. Then, recognition flickered, and she straightened in her chair, her fingers still resting lightly on the keyboard.

“Oh hey! It is,” she replied, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of surprise. “I have a big presentation next week.”

Ran tilted his head, feigning interest. “What’s it about?”

She hesitated, glancing at her laptop as if considering whether or not to indulge him. Finally, she said, “Well, it’s for my communication class. We’re analyzing persuasive techniques in media campaigns.”

Ran let out a low whistle, pulling out the chair opposite her without waiting for an invitation. “That sounds...impressive. And complicated.”

“ I mean, it’s not too bad,” she said, her tone modest. “It's just a tedious assignments kind of class.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “You make it look easy.”

Her lips parted slightly at the comment, her gaze flickering to his face. There it was—that faint crack in her composure. She blinked, clearly unsure how to respond, and Ran couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

“Do you always work this hard?” He asked, keeping his tone light, almost teasing. “Because I think you’ve been in here every time I’ve walked by.”

Her brows furrowed, a small crease forming between them. “You’ve seen me before?”

“Hard to miss,” He said smoothly, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

Her cheeks flushed, just barely, and she dropped her gaze back to her laptop, clearly trying to focus. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here,” She said, her voice quieter now, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him.

“That’s 'cause I’m not really the ‘library’ type.” Ran admitted, leaning back in his chair slightly. “But if I’d known you were here the whole time, I woulda became a bookworm way sooner.”

Her fingers paused on the keyboard, and she looked up again, this time with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Do you always talk like this?”

Ran chuckled, his grin widening. “Only when I’m trying to get someone’s attention.”

“Well, congratulations,” She said dryly, though her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “You’ve got it.”

Ran studied her for a moment, noting the way she held herself—her posture straight, her gaze steady despite the faint flustered look in her eyes. She was composed, yes, but not immune.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Because I’ve been trying to figure out how to introduce myself since the first time I saw you.”

That seemed to catch her off guard. Her eyes widened just slightly, and she tilted her head. “Since the first time...?”

He nodded, keeping his expression sincere. “You have this way of standing out, you know? It’s hard not to notice.”

Her flush deepened, and she glanced away, clearly flustered now. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” she muttered.

“It is,” he assured her, leaning forward again. “You’re... different.”

“Different how?”

“Regal,” He said, the word rolling off his tongue like honey. “Like you know exactly who you are and what you want. It’s rare.”

She blinked, visibly taken aback. For a moment, she seemed at a loss for words, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her notebook. “That’s...quite the observation,” She said finally.

Ran shrugged, letting his smile turn just a bit playful. “I’m good at reading people.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” She asked, raising a brow.

He nodded. “Mhm. And right now, I’m readin' that you’re working too hard. You need a break.”

She laughed softly at that, shaking her head. “A break? In the middle of the library?”

“Why not?” He said, leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence. “Five minutes won’t kill you.”

Her expression softened, and for the first time, she smiled—a small, genuine curve of her lips that sent a jolt of satisfaction through him.

The air on the sixth floor of the campus building was thick with the mingled scents of rubber flooring, faint cleaning solution, and sweat. It wasn’t a place she frequented, but the broken water fountain on the library’s main floor had sent her here. Her reusable bottle clutched tightly in her hand, she weaved through the sparse crowd of students, her head down to avoid accidentally locking eyes with someone she knew.

But then she stopped—completely halted, rooted to the spot.

Ran was here.

Her gaze landed on him almost instinctively, like gravity had shifted to pull her focus in his direction. He was at one of the pull-up bars, his broad, toned back glistening under the dim overhead lights. Sweat clung to his skin like a second layer, emphasizing the sharp cut of his muscles as he lifted his body with practiced ease. His arms flexed with each upward motion, his biceps tightening, his grip unyielding. The rhythmic sound of his breath, controlled and measured, carried faintly to where she stood.

Her chest tightened. She should look away, refill her water bottle, and leave. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Her eyes betrayed her as they swept over him, lingering on the defined lines of his back, the faint curve of his shoulder blades, and the taut muscles of his legs visible under his athletic shorts. Then she noticed it—the intricate tattoo running down the entire right side of his body.

From his shoulder, across his ribs, and disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts, the inky design was mesmerizing. Thick, bold lines intertwined with delicate ones, creating a pattern that looked both deliberate and chaotic. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

A warmth crept up her cheeks, and she forced herself to swallow past the dryness in her throat. She shouldn’t be staring, shouldn’t be feeling the things she was feeling. But there was no denying the unfamiliar twinge low in her stomach, the way her fingers tightened slightly around her water bottle.

This wasn’t her. She wasn’t the type to get distracted like this, wasn’t the type to let her mind wander into... that territory. Her days were filled with classes, study sessions, and carefully maintained schedules. Boys—especially boys like Ran—weren’t part of the equation.

She had heard enough whispers about him to know what kind of guy he was. The charming playboy. The one who always knew exactly what to say to leave a girl flustered, who never stuck around long enough for anything serious. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull he had on her. The sly grins, the playful remarks, the way his eyes seemed to linger just a little too long whenever they talked—he was magnetic. And right now, watching him like this, her feelings were shifting into territory she wasn’t prepared for.

Her chest rose and fell more quickly than it should have as a rush of guilt hit her. This wasn’t right. She felt as though she was peeking into something private, something meant to be hidden. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake the longing simmering just beneath the surface, a quiet yearning she didn’t know what to do with.

Her friends wouldn’t have hesitated. They would’ve gone right up to him, batted their lashes, and said something witty or bold. They wouldn’t have stood there like a deer caught in headlights, frozen between propriety and desire. She thought of them now, with their easy laughter and casual confidence. For the first time, she envied them. Envy tinged with frustration and pure jealousy.

She had no idea how long she had been standing there, staring at him. But it was long enough to see him finish his last pull-up in the set, his muscles taut with strain, before he finally dropped to the ground in one fluid motion.

And then it happened. He turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she froze as his gaze locked on her. His expression shifted from neutral concentration to something lighter—amused, curious. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a small towel, slinging it over his shoulder as he started walking towards her.

Panic flared in her chest. She should move, say something, do something?! Even if she had wanted to her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her grip on the water bottle tightened, and her mind scrambled for a plausible explanation for why she’d been standing there, gawking at him like he was a display in a luxury jewelry store.

“Didn’t know you came up here,” Ran stated, his voice low, smooth, and perfectly casual as he closed the distance between them. “Figured you’d be holed up in the library like usual.”

The sound of his voice jolted her from her trance, but not entirely. She blinked rapidly, her lips pressing together in an effort to stay composed, but it was futile. The closer he got, the more overwhelmed she felt.

“I-I was just...” Her voice faltered as she tightened her grip on the water bottle. “The-the water fountain. I was getting water. The one downstairs is broken.”

Ran raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Ah, lucky me, then.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The way he was looking at her—like she was the only person in the gym—made her heart race and her palms sweat. It didn’t help that he was standing so close now, close enough for her to see the painfully sensual sheen of sweat on his skin, the sharp definition of his collarbone, the way his tattoo seemed to ripple with every movement.

Her mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, none of which were appropriate. She shouldn’t be looking at him like this. She shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to run her fingers along the lines of his tattoo, to trace the patterns from his shoulder down his ribs. She shouldn’t be noticing the faint curve of his lower abs or the way his athletic shorts hung just low enough to make her shiver with lust.

But she was. And it was mortifying.

“Hey,” Ran called out, his tone softening slightly, though his smirk remained firmly in place. “You okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Her gaze snapped back to his face, and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, yeah! I'm good.” The words tumbled out too fast, and she winced inwardly at how unconvincing she sounded.

“You're good, huh?” He teased, leaning slightly closer. “You sure about that? You look a little...distracted.”

“I’m not,” She blurted, her voice too loud for the quiet gym. She cringed, lowering her eyes to the floor as she clutched her bottle so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I mean, I’m not distracted. I just—”

Ran chuckled, the sound warm and low, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. “Relax,” He said, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just messing with you.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. Her usual self-control was nowhere to be found, replaced by a flustered vulnerability that he found utterly captivating. She was stammering, her gaze flickering everywhere but his face, as though she couldn’t decide where to look without embarrassing herself further.

He decided to push a little harder.

“You doing anything later?” He asked, his tone casual, as if the answer didn’t matter—though it absolutely did.

Her heart stopped, then started again in a frantic rhythm. She blinked at him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I said,” Ran repeated, his smirk widening, “Are you doing anything later? Because I’m free tonight, and I figured if you’re not busy with your usual school stuff, we could hang out.”

Her breath hitched. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? Her mind raced, running through all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. But as much as she wanted to say no, the quiet, rebellious part of her—the part that had been simmering since she first met him—wanted to say yes.

“Oh. I-I…,” She inwardly scolds herself for stuttering so badly, “I mean, I have some work to do, so—”

“You can spare a couple hours,” Ran interrupted smoothly, stepping just a little closer. His proximity made her chest tighten, her eyes instinctively darting back to his tattoo before she forced them away. “Unless you don’t want to?”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and she felt her resolve waver. She did want to. That was the problem.

Her fingers fidgeted with the cap of her water bottle as she hesitated, her thoughts a tangled mess of nervous excitement and guilt. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move, and it only made it harder to think clearly.

“Okay,” She said finally, her voice soft and unsure. She glanced up at him, her cheeks burning as she added, “What did you have in mind?”

Ran’s smirk softened into something more genuine, but no less mischievous. “Something chill,” He said with a casual shrug. “If you’re more comfortable, I could come to your place. We’ll keep it easy.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her stomach flipping at the suggestion. She nodded quickly, unable to trust her voice, and hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous she was.

“Good,” He said, his voice low and smooth, sending another shiver down her spine. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He turned to leave, but not before giving her one last lingering look. The intensity in his eyes made her knees weak, and she could barely manage a quiet “Bye” in response.

She stood there for a long moment after he walked away, her pulse still racing, her cheeks still warm. She felt like she had just stepped off a rollercoaster, her thoughts swirling in a dizzying mix of exhilaration and nervousness.

Her water bottle remained empty, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think about was the night ahead—and the fact that she had just said yes to Ran.

Her room felt smaller with him in it. The warm light from her lamp cast shadows across the walls, and the faint lavender scent that always soothed her now seemed to press against her chest. She barely registered Ran’s gaze as he sat on the edge of her bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his posture both relaxed and commanding.

She hadn’t sat down. Couldn’t. Instead, she stood between his legs, holding herself stiffly, clutching her hands in front of her. “You can sit anywhere,” she’d said, her voice barely steady.

His smirk deepened, the kind of knowing curve that made her stomach flip. He leaned back slightly, one brow raising. “I already picked a spot. You should do the same.”

She blinked, swallowing hard, her cheeks warm as she fumbled for words. “II-I mean—I meant, I'll sit in a second.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and deep in his chest. “You don’t have people over much, do you?”

Her blush burned brighter as her eyes darted away. “I do,” She mumbled. “It’s just...it's been a while.”

“That much is obvious,” He teased, his voice like velvet.

She was going to say something, but completely forgot how to even breathe properly as she glanced at him. His gaze was magnetic, dark and intense, pulling her in and holding her there. The way he looked at her wasn’t fair—not the way his eyes softened but his smirk remained sharp. Not the way they flickered briefly down to her lips, lingering for a beat too long before dragging back up to meet her gaze.

Her knees felt weak. She glanced down, desperate for an escape from the weight of his stare.

“Come here,” He said softly, startling her out of her thoughts. He reached out, his hand resting lightly on her wrist, and gave her a gentle tug. She didn’t resist. She moved closer, letting herself be guided until she was standing directly between his long legs.

“There,” he said, his smirk returning. “That’s better.”

She laughed nervously, her eyes once again everywhere but on his.

They fall into a silence yet again, the lack of sound almost deafening in her eyes. It was too loud, the silence, it gave too much space for her mind to drift off somewhere dangerous.

Ran took her hands and placed them on his shoulders, his skin warm through the fabric of his shirt.

Her heart pounded in her chest as her fingers brushed the curve of his collarbone, though she tried to keep her voice steady. “Ran—”

She wasn't sure if it was herself of Ran that had cut her off, the intensity of his gaze freezing her words before they could leave her lips.

It was so loud. Too loud.

The unwavering fire in his eyes as he stared up at her made her heart leap for the thousandth time. They spoke such volumes that words couldn't have been able to articulate accurately enough.

Her breath caught as he pulled her closer, his grip steady on her waist. The space between them grew smaller and smaller, suffocatingly smaller, and every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire.

“Ran,” She tried again, but her voice broke on the syllable.

“Hmm?” He asked, his voice low and teasing, his eyes never leaving hers.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her thoughts were spinning too fast, tangled between the firm pressure of his hands and the steady pull of his gaze. She felt his fingers flex against her waist, drawing her in even closer.

His hands cascaded down her body, leave a trail of electricity, before pulling her into his lap. He positioned her, using the back of her knees to place her legs on either side of him.

She froze, keeping herself stable by using his shoulders.

Neither of them said a word. His hands rested lightly on her hips, holding her there as though they had always belonged. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts, and she felt the heat of his touch radiating through her, making her head spin. She tried to focus, to gather her thoughts, but it was impossible under the weight of his gaze.

Ran’s eyes flickered down to her lips briefly, then back up to meet hers. The silent tension between them was almost unbearable, a taut wire threatening to snap. She swallowed hard, her fingers flexing against his shoulders as if to ground herself.

Then, almost without thinking, her hands began to move.

She started slow, hesitant, her palms trailing down from his shoulders to his chest. Her touch was light, almost experimental, as if testing what she could get away with. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, the way his muscles tensed slightly under her touch. Her gaze flicked up to his face, searching for any sign of resistance, but he didn’t stop her.

If anything, he encouraged her.

Ran’s dark eyes followed her every movement, sharp and intent, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at her—hungry, patient, expectant—made her pulse thunder in her ears.

Her hands continued downward, over the ridges of his torso, the fabric of his shirt doing little to mask the firm lines beneath. Her fingertips brushed the hem of his shirt, and she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her flushed skin. The other hand slid around her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Her lips parted, her breath shaky as her hands stilled against his chest. She could feel the strength in his hold, the unspoken promise in the way he touched her—a promise of more to soon come.

And when he finally kissed her, it wasn’t soft.

It was fiery, consuming, a kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. His lips moved against hers with a fervor that made her head spin, his hand tilting her face just enough to deepen the angle. She melted into him, her hands sliding instinctively back up to his shoulders, clinging to him as though he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

The world faded around her, her senses narrowing to him—the heat of his body, the roughness of his hands, the way he kissed her like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. Her mind went fuzzy, her thoughts dissolving into nothing but the sensation of his mouth on hers, the way he tasted, the way he made her feel.

Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as she kissed him back, her own movements growing bolder, more certain. His hand on her back pressed her closer, as though he couldn’t get enough of her, as though he wanted to pull her into him completely.

And she felt just the same.

Ran pulled away, and before she could even begin to wonder why, he plops her onto the bed beside him. He turned around, climbing on top of her like a prowling tiger.

They both knew where this was going, where it was always going to go between them. So at this point, she didn't bother to hide her desire, her deep rooted lust.

They struggle to maintain their open mouthed kiss while taking off each other's clothes, every movement as if they're somehow running out of time.

He didn't even allow her a moment to try and cover herself in embarrassment, let the usual coyness kick back in. His mouth and hands were already hard at work, kissing all over her neck and chest, his hands cupping and squeezing at her soft breasts.

He loved the way her chest rose and fell, harder and harder the more he touched and licked at her skin. He worked his way down her body, all the way down until he's kissing between her plush thighs.

His hands stroked and worshipped each leg, spreading them open by the back of her knees to make room for his face.

“R-Ran, wait!" She muttered, barely above a whisper. He ignored her, already understanding her protest to be her shyness talking.

His eyes found hers, gazing intently just to see her face contort into pleasure as his tongue gently kitten licks between her folds before slowly circling her pearly clit.

“Ohhh!" She cried out breathlessly. Her legs attempted to close, fighting against his strong grip under her knees, holding her spread for him to eat her out uninterrupted.

“Ughh.” She whimpered softly, obviously trying to keep her moans down. He wasn't having that though. He was determined to make her cry for him, make her scream. His tongue prodded at her little hole, before diving straight inside, in and out.

He ate her out sloppily and slowly—messily, moaning against her pussy as his tongue worked her to her first orgasm. He could feel her legs trembling, feel her grip onto his tresses as she arches her back. She was going to cum already, and he couldn't wait to taste her.

“Raaaan! Rannieee!” She cried out between pants, struggling to keep her body under control along with her pretty moans.

She squeezed her eyes closed, her body tensed up as she finally releasing on his tongue. He didn't waste a single drop, lapping up at her hole to catch it all. As she came down from her high he didn't bother to stop, continuing to suck and kiss her clit, and press his tongue inside her walls.

She couldn't hold herself back anymore, her hands pull and grip on his hair roughly, her brows knitted together in ecstasy.

“I-I can't! I'm cumming again!” She whimpered cutely, trembling worse than her previous orgasm. He moaned softly against her clit, the sound low and approving, sending a thrill down her spine. She climaxed once again, her body taut from the intensity of her release. He allowed her to ride it out, gently slowing to a stop before letting go of her legs, licking his lips as he'd just had a satisfying meal.

“You taste so good. Just as good as you look, Princess." He cooed, reveling in the flattered little laugh she let out in response.

He climbed over her, leaning down onto his elbows as he dove in for another kiss, tasting herself on his lips. She was too lost, too high off her orgasms and the kiss to notice him reach between them and angle himself with her dripping entrance. She gasped as his tip presses inside her, forcing her walls to stretch and accommodate his length. He couldn't help the drawn out moan that breaks past his lips, vibrating against hers as he finally bottoms out deep inside.

She felt even better than he'd been imagining this whole time. His fantasies and wet dreams couldn't compare to the real thing. Her walls gripped him so tightly, as if determined to lock him in place inside her forever. Her pussy was so overwhelmingly pleasurable.

He tongued her mouth, catching every moan and whimper while he strokes her walls. Her small hands barely manage to wrap around his biceps, but they try, her nails starting to dig into his skin.

She cried out to him, struggling to get her point across between kisses and pitifully loud moans of pleasure. “Mmmm! S-so....so good! Don't stop!”

Ran, motivated by her plea, begins pounding into her, picking up the pace. He pulled away from the kiss, his hands gripped her legs and folding her in half in pursuit of a better angle.

“Ugh, ugh yes! Right there, right there!” She moaned, throwing her back against the pillows.

“Right here, baby?” He teased, his hard dick kissing against her sweet spot, again and again. He felt her body trembling once again, only partially contained by his hands keeping her still.

She twitched and cried out uncontrollably, her moans and pleas no longer coherent. He had her right where he wanted her, fucked so good she turns into a babbling mess, begging and whining for nothing in particular.

He felt her orgasm ripple through her body violently, coating his dick with her cum as he continued pounding into her. She didn't come down from her high, he kept the momentum going, force feeding another orgasm right after the next.

“There you go, baby. Keep makin' a mess on my dick.”

Her trembling hands pressed against his abs, a weak attempt to slow him down. She'd already become overstimulated, pushed past her limit, but he doesn't care.

He wouldn't stop till he cums all over her pretty stomach.

She moaned his name over and over again, tears forming then cascading down her cheeks as he ravages her. She came once again, and another time back to back. She'd never felt so amazing before, so utterly taken care of and satisfied by a man. This was the best sex she'd ever had.

“Rannie, please...c-cum.” He felt his dick twitch as she starts begging and pleading for him to finally cum, unable to handle another world shattering orgasm. He looked down at her, the way her teary eyes silently begged him, the way her hands touched his stomach, her moans that blended with the erotic sounds of her sloppy, wet pussy as he fucked into her. He felt himself going to cum soon.

He coaxed another orgasm from her, causing her to whine loudly, her hands desperately attempting to throw off his rhythm.

He gave her three, four more strokes before he pulls out, cumming onto her stomach with a long, drawn out moan of satisfaction. She huffed, her body struggling to aid her in catching her breath.

Ran plopped down on the bed next to her, his chest rising and falling heavily as he comes down from his own high.

They laid in silence for a short while, before she finally spoke, “That was so good.”

Her tone was breathless, with a tinge of shyness, already making it's way back to the forefront.

“Yeah, it was. You're pussy's so good we might have to go for another round.” He mused, though his lilac eyes held a seriousness that left her no room for questioning.

“I...don't think I'd mind that.”

[sitabethel]

Hey Fam, do you hate Amazon? Would you like to support independent queer publishers/authors? Are you in the mood to read a spicy dark fantasy where the rules-lawyer knight wants his witch captive so badly that he can't function?

An Ivory Fox Mask doesn't come out until February 25th (officially) but if you order it directly from NineStar Press you can read it right now!

[deesseshesca]

Your next self-pleasure experience ?

Oh …oh …oh is happening again… am I too lonely ? 

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today we are checking on your sweet spot. What does it need ? How is it going to happen ? Where is the pleasure coming from ? 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

CHOOSE AN IMAGE 

PILE 1 

BACKGROUND : You guys are in your ain’t shit era … and I love it. As an ex member of the community girl get your lick back on life.You are dealing with someone with no string attached. But not in the way we know it. More like you found another person that ain’t shit and you decide to form an alliance. Like both of you are entering this toxic energy just for the fuck of it. You lie to each other just to have some bomb makeup sex. Not even dealing with the issue, not even caring for the issue to be there. You know you got that good gwack and you are playing mind games with him regarding it. I’m also seeing that you are now the ‘’abuser’’ or the teacher. I feel like you had one to many relationships and the switch went off. The way people used to play with you, you're doing it  the same back. Back to your head game, it is so good that he is texting you praising you about it. Some go even as far as scheduling a next meeting just for some head. Like they will take a plane to have some of that good gwack. I feel like this beautiful mess of a relationship  is less than 2 months old. You don’t feel bad about how you are acting and you know you are playing with his head.  YOU DON’T CARE ! 

EXPERIENCE: The next time you are going to masturbate, you will film yourself. More specifically, you in lingerie filming aesthetic snippets of you. Smoking and drinking. Then sending an audio of your moan, you wet cooch or just both to this person.

Toxic Khelani 

You have your body done and it looks the fuck good. Like nobody can tell that you have your boobs or butt done. I am also hearing about mommy makeovers. You love filming yourself naked. I am getting you have bunch of nudes organize depending on the mood you set for yourself. 

PILE 2 

BACKGROUND : Pile 2, you guys are the more mature women in this pile. You have your master degree, you have 2 cars, you own a house, you have a kid and a ex-husband. You look the fuck good for yourself. I am also getting sophisticated women that are very classy and almost posh. I feel like you never thought you would be reading for this reading rn. Just like your next self-pleasure experience is going to be unexpected. Right now you develop a deep and intense connection with the mom of the friend of your kid. She is your complete opposite. You waited to be set to have kids. She had them unexpectedly with her babydaddy. She is heavily tatted. A bit more outspoken and she might curse like an old sailor but gosh she is a good mom. She is at least 10 years younger than you. You develop an admiration for her, she everything would never dare be. You might feel a bit annoyed by her. Thinking that she only wanted men's attraction because let’s be honest she is smoking hot. I am also getting that she might be a sex worker. If you watch P-Valley,the wife and Mercedes. You guys are giving me this dynamic. In conclusion, you are very intrigued by her. 

EXPERIENCE: You will be wine drunk at the bar. For you it is going to feel like a rebirth. I think you said goodbye to this hot girl summer era a long time ago. So having some heavy makeup, pre-gaming and wearing a skimpy outfit is going to feel like a breath of fresh air. You guys will be dancing and singing your heart out. Pouf the kiss. For her is not going to mean much. Because sometimes, girls get drunk and kiss each other. But for you it will be a never before experience. You will go home that same exact night and get off at the thought of her dominating you. I think during the drive back you might get delusional on having a future with her because you never felt like this before. You won't let it get bigger than just a fantasy. 

KHELANI-Adetunji

PILE 3

BACKGROUND: You guys are confused. You were in a relationship where your partner cheated on you and you cheated back with a good guy. What I mean by that, is that you were sure you were going to cheat on him. And the person you end up doing it with knows about the whole situation. I’m getting he checked on you before you went down and nasty just to make sure you were completely fine with the plan. He was there for you emotionally when you dealt with the cheating. You guys end up making love. Now that everything is over, you kind of maintain a relationship, from your perspective, you are scared. You are a woman of strong standard and principle.You usually know what is right and wrong but now you are utterly confused . You want him, he wants you, yes you cheated with him but it was to get your lick back. And he treats you like a princess naturally. But what if it goes wrong … I mean very WRONG ! Are some dumb bitch to believe that’s actually correct ? Are you stupid, you are really going to trust what a man says, after everything you went through with the last one ? I fear this is your inner monologue. But what is crazy is that he is not speaking, he is acting like the man you deserve. That’s a difference babe. You guys' relationship is very balanced, you got your lick back and he got the chance to experience you in the most intimate and divine way. 

EXPERIENCE: The next time you masturbate, will be a front of some porn. I’m getting any porn, good or bad. Your style or not. It doesn't matter because you're going to get off thinking of him. Lately everytime you try to get intimate with yourself or anyone, you always end up having a flashback of what you guys shared. Until you guys don’t get over this fear regarding this decision that needs to happen in y’all couple nothing will be changing. 

You guys are from NYC. 

He is usually a very chill guy but with you, girl … completely obsessive. He is just waiting for your green light to sweep you off your feet with his lust.

[stormyskies-writes]

I sat down yesterday to write a short one-shot to get back into writing but it ended up being an 18k word chapter and now I'm at a loss because that is the longest chapter I have ever written and I can't split it because it's all one scene lmao

[critical-love-cod]

Not So Tough After All

König x Fem!Reader

Warnings: highly suggestive and some cursing.

A/N: I wrote this story a while ago and didn’t have time to proof read the whole thing, so if I missed any warnings let me know!

—•— ——— —• •• ——•

I blinked heavily in the dim light of the room. I didn’t know where I was or who was standing in the corner of the room. I had definitely been caught, that was for sure. The cold kiss of the metal cuffs around my wrists confirmed my theory. The ropes that held me to the chair making my bare arms itch. I blinked away what drowsiness I had in my eyes and tried to focus on the figure across from me.

“Hello?” I said, my voice gravelly.

“Shut up.” The person said, his British accent catching me off guard. I sighed, realizing who it was.

“Hello again, Riley.” I spat, leaning back in the chair. He scoffed.

“You don’t get to call me that.” He said, folding his arms across his chest and hanging back in the dark.

“I can do what I want.” I told him. “You’re not my Lieutenant.” He stayed silent for a while. Then he began to make his way slowly into the light. As he did, the shadow on his skull mask crept backward, revealing the sharp edges of the mask.

“Nice mask.” I said.

“I said shut up.” He replied, walking over to me a bit quicker now. “God I’m glad I’m not dealing with you.” I raised an eyebrow, then stuck out my bottom lip sarcastically.

“Awe. Why not?” I whined, leaning forward and resting my biceps against the cool metal table in front of me.

“Because we have someone better educated in the art of torture.” He replied, lowering his voice and putting his palms on the table.

“Oo sounds exciting. Physical or mental?” I asked, watching his muscles flex as he leaned back from the table.

“Both.” He said simply. I gasped in an exaggerated way, making sure to lace sarcasm in every sound I made.

“I cant wait to meet this person.” I said, smiling brightly. He scoffed and walked toward the exit door of the cell. Before he left, he turned to look at me again.

“Have fun.” He said.

“I’ll do my best, Riley.” I said, adding extra emphasis on his name. The door slammed behind him and the room was silent. The only sound was the humming of the little yellow bulb above me. I sat there, patiently waiting and scratching my wrists around where the cuffs were rubbing. I sighed, taking in what else this holding room had to offer.

It was all just grey concrete. The dust that hung in the air, only visible in the light above me. There were no windows, no vents. Nothing. Just as looked up at the light again, the metal door creaked open. I looked over to the door and a man walked in. A man fully clad in military gear and a black hood draped over his face. He was tall. Very tall.

I leaned back in the chair again, doing my best to hide the fact that I was slightly intimidated.

“And you are?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. I tugged against the cuffs, making noice to break the heavy silence.

“My name is König.” He replied, grabbing the empty chair opposite me and straddling it. He placed his arms and the back of the chair and looked over at me with hooded eyes which were darkened by the shadow of his hood. My heart began to pound faster in my chest.

“Oh you’re the big and shy one.” I teased. “I’ve heard the force talk about you over the radio waves I tap into.” I told him. My senses were immediately heightened when I saw his chest rise, taking a deep breath.

“They say I’m big and shy?” He asked. I smirked, retaining my poker face.

“Yeah, they say that stuff behind your back I’m guessing? Considering it sounds like this is the first you’ve heard of it.” I asked him, leaning forward a bit to engage in the conversation a bit more. König quickly moved on from my question though, slowly standing from the chair and speaking again.

“It would seem as though you know the Lieutenant.” He pointed out, walking over to me and kicking one of the legs of the chair, pushing me away from the table. I sucked air in through my teeth at the suddenness of his movement. But I answered him nonetheless.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been captured by you guys.” I sneered, pulling against the cuffs.

“Then you must be terrible at your job, hübsches mädchen.” He said, his voice lowering as he leaned down, placing his left hand of the back of my chair.

“Or maybe I like being caught.” I said, quirking my eyebrow. “You’re not a bad looking bunch, the one-four-one.” I teased, putting my right foot out and brushing it against his left leg. König scoffed and leaned me back quickly.

“That’s not going to work on me, süße.” He said, tilting his head a bit. I hummed in response.

“I don’t believe you, König.” I whispered, leaning forward in the chair. “I think your soft side is a bit more dominant than your aggressive side.” He stayed quiet, staring me down with his piercing blue-grey eyes. But I persisted, moving my foot under his pant leg, rubbing back and forth. I watched his eyes flutter slightly and I smirked in response.

“See?” I said. “Your eyes are just proving my point.” I teased, leaning forward more as I felt him lowering the chair back down.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He said sternly. I chuckled.

“According to your team, you’re a softy.” I said, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “However, Ghost said you were educated in the art of torture?” I phrased it as a question. König’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“He’s right.” He stated.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” I bit back, getting bored now.

“He is. I just never have the heart to use my knowledge.” He admitted. I almost felt bad for giving him such a hard time. But I was adamant. I needed to escape.

“Why?” I asked simply.

“Makes me uncomfortable. If someone is going to die I don’t want to make them suffer.” He explained, remaining in front of me. I watched as he seemed to double in size when he put his hands on his head in a stressed manner.

“Scheiß!” He suddenly hissed, kicking my chair again, causing me to fall back and hit my head. I cried out in pain, my chained hands shooting up to cradle the back of my head.

“What the hell was that for?!” I shouted, rubbing my head profusely. König made no movement to help me. Not that I expected him to. I was a prisoner after all. I heard his footsteps approaching but I didn’t bother to open my watering eyes. When I finally did however, I was surprised to see König’s towering figure standing over me, his legs on either side of the chair.

“You’re gonna talk.” He said, his words dripping with an odd form of anger. It sounded half real and half fake. “Or I’m gonna make you talk.”

“I don’t even understand why you guys keep capturing me and then letting me go once you have the information you want.” I spat out, tugging against the uncomfortable ropes. “Also, no one has ever kicked me over for information! I’ve always happily given it!” I yelled, seeing red now.

“I don’t understand why. You’re the enemy.” König said, squatting down to sit on the front edge of the chair in between my legs. “You should be taking anything that comes your way to keep the information we need to yourself. That’s how it works, süße.”

“And you should be torturing your prisoners.” I said, my heart in my throat. “That’s how it works, no?” I asked, raising my head to get a better look at him. Oh how I wish I had kept my mouth shut. His pupils were blown and his body seemed to be trembling with anger. My eyes widened in fear of what was to come.

Before I could blink, König was on his feet, pulling a knife from his vest and ripping the ropes from the front of my body. He picked me up by the front of my belt and slammed me down on the metal table, knocking the air out of me. I coughed and tried to curl into the fertile position but König was on me again, grabbing my ankles in one hand and the rope in the other.

“König,” I choked.

“Quiet.” He spat, tying my ankles to the table one at a time. “I’m tired of being pushed around.” He mumbled to himself.

“König, please. I wasn’t-“ I begged, still trying catch my breath.

“I said shut up!” he shouted, leaning down and getting in my face. I closed my eyes, stray tears running down my temples as I laid there, submitting to him. König finished tying my ankles down and then grabbed my cuffed wrists with his right hand, raising them above my head and holding them there. He then reached over with his left hand and placed it over me, resting his palm on the table.

“Not so tough now are you, hübsches mädchen?” He teased, tilting his head a bit. I whimpered, my back getting sore from being thrown onto the table. He held me there, leaning down to get closer to my ear. “Now you’re gonna tell me what we need to know. And you’re gonna do it professionally.” He whispered, his German accent thickening the lower he voice got. It made a chill run down my spine.

I nodded slowly, squirming a bit underneath him. I heard him chuckle at my movements. König grabbed the same knife he used to cut the ropes from my body and pressed the edge of the blade against my face.

“Stop. Moving.” He demanded, pressing the blade roughly against my right cheek, but still not enough to break the flesh. I nodded profusely this time, turning my head to try and get the knife away, but it was no use. König kept tracing a line down my face and to my neck with the tip of the blade.

“Now talk.” He said, holding the knife to my throat.

-Time Skip-

After a few snarky remarks followed by small cuts on my face and shoulders, I had given him every bit of information he asked for. König walked over to the metal door, stepping out for a moment and leaving me tied to the table. I cried silently to myself, knowing this would be the final straw with the guys at my base.

The salt from my tears in the cuts König left made my skin burn, making me cry harder. I pulled gently against the cuffs, fidgeting nervously. I heard the door unlocking and I laid still, waiting for König to come back over to me. His footsteps approached, followed by the sound of jingling keys.

I looked up at him and noticed that his eyes had softened a great deal. I furrowed my brows and sat up on my elbows.

“Are you alright?” König asked, meeting my gaze. I nodded slowly and watched as he cut the ropes on ankles.

“Sore. My skin is burning.” I answered shortly. Once the ropes were cut from my ankles, I swung my legs around and dangled them off of the table.

“I’m sorry.” König apologized. He is apologizing for doing his job.

“König, you shouldn’t apologize for doing your job.” I told him. He grabbed my left hand gently and held it up, unlocking the cuffs from my wrists.

“Like I said before, I don’t like knowing what I know about torture methods.” König reminded me. “I don’t like using them. But I’m required to. So the least I can do is apologize.” I smiled sweetly at him and he reached into a small med bag and pulled some bandages out of it.

“König, you don’t have to-“ I began, but he was quick to stop me.

“Please.” He sighed out. “Please just let me.” König practically begged. I was slightly taken aback by his change of tone and mood, but I allowed him to continue what he was doing. He gently wrapped a bandage around each wrist, focusing heavily on his work.

“How does that feel?” He asked, looking up at me with hooded eyes. I just stared at him, wondering why he was taking time to do this. “Schatz?”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked before I could stop myself. His head jerked back a bit in confusion.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked in response.

“Because you’re the one that did the damage.” I pointed out. “Why wouldn’t you let me just go running back to my base and get medical help there?” König’s eyes darted back and forth between my own.

“Because you’re not going back to your base are you?” He asked, getting on his knees in front of me and rolling up my right pant leg.

“Who told?” I teased, huffing in amusement. He chuckled a bit, wrapping the bandage around my ankles.

“No one. I just happen to know this is your third strike and they’ll kill you if you go back.” He informed me. I put my palms on the table and watched as he moved to my left ankle.

“Again, who told?” I asked. He finished bandaging my ankles in silence before standing up again, his broad figure towering over me.

“Simon.” He answered simply.

“Damn it.” I remarked, slamming my fist lightly on the table. He chuckled and moved forward slightly, standing in between my legs. I blushed profusely at his closeness.

He stared down at me for a moment, seemingly drinking in the sight of me. He grabbed a clean cloth from the bag on the table and folded it into a neat square. Then he reached out with his left hand and grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head back a bit.

I closed my eyes and König began dabbing the cuts that were scattered on my face. I brought my hands in front of me, folding them together in between my legs. König’s touch was so gentle and slow. However, one of the cuts he touched stung a bit under pressure. I sucked air in though my teeth and my arms shot forward, grabbing either side of his shirt.

“Sorry.” He said quickly. I shook my head.

“No no, it’s okay.” I said, tightening my grip on his shirt. König reached back out slowly and continued dabbing the cuts.

“You’ve got quite the grip, Schatz.” He said softly, lightly brushing the cloth over the cut on my neck. I smirked and opened my eyes a bit to meet his gaze. My stomach fluttered when I saw that he was already staring directly into my eyes.

“Sorry,” I said, beginning to loosen my grasp on his shirt. I nearly jumped when his left hand grabbed my right wrist with an iron grip.

“Didn’t say let go.” He muttered. My eyes widened with both surprise and fear.

“Okay.” I said softly, gripping his shirt again. This time though, I slid my hands back to his lower back, subtly pulling him closer. A soft sigh fell from his lips as he finished cleaning up the last cut.

“You’re acting like I don’t know what you’re doing right now.” He said, gently rubbing against me. I sighed and moved my hands to his chest.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” I asked, tilting my head up. His form was blocking the light the hung above him. So much so, to the point where I could see his eyes blown with desire. His right hand snaked up and wrapped around my throat.

“Don’t play dumb. I know you’re not.” He pointed out. Then I had a plan. I wrapped my legs around the back of his knees, kicking hard and causing him to fall backward, dragging me off the table. I landed on top of him, quickly pinning his arms to the ground with my knees. Before he was able to speak, I had grabbed a knife from his vest and held it against his hood, pressing firmly against his neck, but not hard enough to draw blood.

“You’re right. I’m not dumb. Thank you for saying so.” I said with a smirk. Then he bucked up into me. I looked into his fear-filled eyes and chuckled. “Are you… enjoying this, König?” I asked in a teasing tone. He shook his head vigorously.

“N-no.” He stuttered. I leaned down a bit and stared at him intensely before whispering next to his ear.

“Not so tough now are you?” I repeated his words from earlier. A soft sigh escaped his lips as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Please, would you,” he muttered softly.

“Would I what?” I asked, dragging the knife down the front of his vested chest.

“Sit.” He replied, tilting his head back against the cement floor. It took everything in me to keep my composure.

“König. Anyone could walk in.” I pointed out, running the knife under the edge of his hood. “Doubt anyone would wanna see a prisoner on top of their fellow soldier.”

“You’d be surprised.” König huffed. I slowly moved my knees off of his arms, allowing him to touch me. He brought his arms forward to rest on my hips, lowering me down to sit where he needed me most. Though I would never admit it, I needed him equally as bad.

His grip was bruising as he moved me back and forth on top of himself. But I didn’t make a sound and just let him continue. Little whimpers fell from his lips and his eyebrows were scrunched in pleasure.

“You’re a mess.” I said softly, causing his pace to suddenly stutter. “But I like you.” I took my chance and stood up from him. He reached up for me like a toddler reaches for his mother.

“W-wait, where are you-“ he said quickly, scrambling to get up from the ground.

“You’re gonna have to let me out or people are going to think you killed me.” I stated, walking backward toward the door.

“No, they know I would never do that.” He replied, walking toward me and pinning me against the door. I reached upward, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down toward me.

“Will you come visit me?” König said breathily, pressing his forehead to mine.

“If you’re good.” I said, pressing my nose up to his masked one.

“How would you know if I wasn’t?” He asked, pulling back from me a bit.

“I stalk you guys all the time. I’ll know.” I replied, trailing my arms to his chest. He chuckled a bit and stepped back from the door, waiting for me to do the same. Once I had moved, he opened the large metal door and held it open for me.

“What service.” I remarked, dramatically placing my hand over my chest.

“Move it.” König’s tone of voice may have changed, but the look in his eyes was just as soft and loving as before. He walked me outside, then to the perimeter of their base, ready to give me the boot.

“I’d better not see you around here again.” König said somewhat loudly. “Please come and see me again.” He whispered down to me. I smiled and then hid my face.

“I promise you won’t.” I said as loud as he had. “I promise I will.” I then whispered up to him. His eyes lifted in a way that let me know he was smiling. Then I turned and took off into the surrounding woods, readying a plan to sneak into my old base to grab a radio.

I sighed to myself, thinking of what the hell just happened. First he was sweet, then he tortured me, then he wanted me , and now he wants me to come back and see him? It made no sense and yet, the exhilaration behind it all was enough to make my common sense fly out the window.

I couldn’t WAIT to see him again.

It had been almost two weeks since I had seen König. I dug the bottoms of my palms into my eyes restlessly. I needed to see him. The moonlight that poured through the little window above the bed told me that now would be as good a time as any to go back to the 141’s base camp.

I had managed to find an old, out of commission bunker whilst I was making my way through the woods. I recognized it to be one that the 141 would sometimes talk about over the radio waves. So I climbed down inside and stayed here instead of going back to my own force. They would have definitely locked me away if I showed my face there again.

I slowly climbed out of the bed, tossing the sheets from my almost bare body. I walked over to the old foot locker, pulling out black cargo pants, a black tank top, and my leg holster, putting all of it on hastily. My mind was racing. What if I get caught? What if it’s a trap? What if König changed his mind?

But my feet kept moving nonetheless. I stepped lightly, careful not to snap any large sticks. Paying attention to the ground so I wouldn’t trip over rocks. I kept my right hand over my pistol, ready to draw in case of an emergency. As I was nearing the edge of the tree-line, I saw a spinning spotlight, almost like the ones at an airport.

I smiled to myself, suddenly hopeful for tonight’s events. I looked at the ground again to watch my step but quickly froze in place. There was a small red laser on my left thigh. I watched in curiosity as it moved from my thigh and to the ground in front of me. Then it started to flash. But there was a pattern. I watched for a moment before I realized it was Morse code.

It stayed on for a second, went off, flashed, and then came back on for a second. I racked my brain, trying to remember Morse code from my basic training days. Then I got it. It was a K. K for König? My heart rate picked up rapidly and I continued watching the laser as it began to move across the ground. I followed it quietly.

I kept walking, getting right up to the fence of the base before the laser moved to my left. I watched as it moved along the edge of the perimeter, almost to the corner. I followed it, keeping my head on a swivel. It did go around the corner, but then it disappeared. So I waited. The sound of a distant thunderstorm rolled over the surrounding mountains. Then I heard footsteps.

I slowly lowered my hand to my pistol, hoping to God I wouldn’t have to use it. The steps were heavy and yet somehow it felt like whoever it was, was trying to be stealthy. I became less tense, having a gut feeling that this was König. My suspicions were confirmed when his tall figure came into view.

“König?” I whispered. He pressed an index finger to his lips and nodded, telling me it was him. I nodded once, acknowledging that he was telling me to stay quiet. I watched as he slung his rifle over his shoulder and then approached the fence, grabbing hold of it firmly. He climbed over in two pulls, due to his size. Then he dropped down next to me silently.

Before I could process what was happening, König suddenly took hold of my left wrist and pulled me swiftly away from the fence. I wanted to ask where he was taking me. I wanted to know why he was moving so urgently. But I followed him nonetheless, looking over my shoulder to see the base shrinking away in the distance.

Once we were out of earshot of the base, König’s pace slowed and he turned to me.

“I’m so glad to see you. I was getting worried.” He said sweetly. His German accent was music to my ears. My heart fluttered hearing that he was getting worried about me. I smirked up at him, lightly punching him in the chest.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” I replied. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. Why was he hugging me? I had only met him once and it was a weird meeting. That much was true. But I didn’t care. I loved the adrenaline flowing through my veins. The adrenaline rush that HE was causing.

“Did you go back to your base?” König asked, pulling back from me and continuing to walk through the tall grass. Or, tall to me anyway. I grabbed onto the back of his vest so I wouldn’t fall too far behind him.

“Hell no.” I said. “They would’ve killed me.” König huffed.

“They wouldn’t. They’d be losing a hell of an asset.” He complimented.

“How do you know?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.” I kept my tone as playful as I could muster. But I was right. He doesn’t know me. I don��t know him.

“You said you’d been captured before? They kept taking you back. Must mean you’re worth something.” He pointed out. I shrugged.

“I hope so.” I replied. Suddenly, König stopped and looked over to his right. “What?” I asked.

“It’s this way.” He stated, beginning to walk again.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” I asked, moving to stand next to him.

“An old sniper lookout.” He said, glancing down at me. There was a comfortable silence between the two of us for the next few minutes of the walk. König then stopped again and moved behind me.

“What are you putting me in front of?” I teased. Then I felt his hands on my waist. His touch was light, almost like he was asking my permission to touch me.

“Nothing, Schatz. Just leading you in.” He said, his voice lowering to a seductive tone.

“Into what? A trap?” I teased again.

“I would never.” He said, bending down to rest his chin on my left shoulder. I found my head tilting to rest against his before I could stop myself. But I just went with it, butterflies erupting in my stomach. The lookout was an underground building, with the actual window itself being just barely above ground.

König led me over to the short set of stairs that led down into the camouflaged building. I walked down them with him close on my heels. Once we were inside, I noticed that König was slightly bent over as he couldn’t stand up straight.

“That can’t be comfortable.” I said with a small laugh, looking up at his hunched over figure. He gave me a look, both offended and amused. The hood that was draped over his features allowed me to read his eyes much better.

“Will you switch that lamp on?” He said, pointing to the floor by the left wall. I nodded and bent down to do as he asked. I heard him move over to the window and the room got slightly darker. Once the lamp was on, I looked up and saw him covering the window with a black tarp.

“Can’t have the force seeing a random light out here.” He told me. I nodded in response, agreeing with him.

“They’d come for us for sure.”

“You mean me.” I said. König shook his head, sitting down in front of me.

“No one knows this is here.” He said. “Which means they wouldn’t expect anyone to be out here.” I continued to stand, still not letting my guard down. König must’ve noticed this because he reached his hand up, offering it to me.

“Sit down, Meine Schatz.” He said softly. “We’re safe out here.” The way he spoke made me feel like I could truly trust him. He was so sure and confident when he spoke. So, I took his hand, the leather of his glove squeaking as he embraced my hand. He pulled on my arm gently, guiding me to sit beside him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” I asked, making sure my left knee was touching his right one. I smiled to myself, knowing that he was just as touch starved as I was.

“For privacy.” He said simply. The orange light from the lamp was casting a beautiful glow across his visible features.

“Why do we need privacy? Cause you’re not supposed to fraternizing with the enemy?” I suggested, quirking an eyebrow at him. König’s pupils dilated as he looked at me. It sent a chill down my spine.

“No.” He muttered. I rubbed my knee against his, teasing him lightly.

“No?” I asked. “What do you mean?” König’s right hand trailed across his leg and over to mine, squeezing my thigh lightly.

“No.” He repeated. Suddenly the air became heavy. There was a type of tension in the air. It was not anger, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. My heart began to beat faster as I held eye contact with him.

“Privacy to finish the dirty game you started to play with me in that cell.” My eyes widened at his words.

“Dirty?” I asked, pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about. I saw his eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“Yes, hübsches mädchen.” He said. His right hand began to move up my left leg and I quickly wrapped my hands around his wrist. He stopped for a moment and we met each other’s gaze.

“Oh? Now that I’m initiating you want nothing to do with it?” He said teasingly as he began to turn his body to face me. I fought to keep my tough facade up, even though I wanted to fold to his will more than anything. I stared down at the lamp in front of me.

“Initiating what?” I replied. “Just because you’re touching my thigh doesn’t mean anything.” His hand trailed up my leg again, pushing past my grip and moving to the bottom of my tank top. My eyes fluttered slightly as his fingers fiddled with the fabric.

“You do want this, no?” König asked, leaning over a bit and putting himself in my peripheral vision. I looked over at him and took a deep breath. “Last I checked, you were enjoying what we did last time.” I smirked at his words.

“Was I?” I asked. “Because last I checked you were a whimpering mess underneath me.” I pointed out, putting emphasis on ‘me’. I turned to face him now, his fingers still playing with the bottom of my shirt. I watched as his eyes darted back and forth between my own. Then he tilted his head down a bit.

“Eyes don’t lie, Schatz.” He said. “You don’t have to be tough around me. You can trust me.” I shivered a bit at his words. There really was honesty behind them. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to know him. I just wanted him.

“König.” I whispered, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.

“I’m here.” He said, reaching his left hand out to cup my cheek. I leaned into his touch and with that, whatever toughness I had drained from my body. I felt safe with him. I reached up and placed my hand over his and König tugged on my waist with his other hand.

“Come here.” He muttered breathily. I unfolded my legs and crawled forward, feeling his hands make their way around my waist and to my lower back. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing my body as close to his as I could. But his gear was really putting distance between us. I looked up and met König’s gaze and smiled when I saw the happiness behind his eyes.

“Do you um,” I began, carefully wrapping my arms around his neck. “Do you do this with all of your female prisoners that you’ve tortured?” I asked playfully. He pulled me closer to him, pressing his hooded forehead to mine.

“Absolutely not.” He said sternly, making sure I believed him.

“Easy König, I’m just teasing.” I told him, moving my hands down to his sides and unbuckling his vest. I expected him to protest, or at the very least, ask what I was doing. But he didn’t, just leaned back and pulled it over his head, leaving him in just his long sleeve compression shirt and gloves. He was truly a sight to see.

I mindlessly dragged my hands up his arms, noting every muscle and vein. König sighed, seemingly enjoying my touch.

“If I’m not mistaken,” he said under his breath, pulling my attention back to his eyes. “You still want me?” He asked. I smirked, using the second of silence to scoot forward and grind against him.

“Why on Earth would you say that?” I whispered next to his ear, hiding my face from him as it was growing redder with every breath I took. I felt his hand drag up my back and gently wrap around my hair. Then he gently pulled my head back until I was looking at him again.

“Don’t play with me, Schatz. Not like last time.” He said, his voice dripping with lust now. I trembled under his touch and König unfolded his legs, put them straight out in front of him and pulled me closer. Suddenly, a wave of worry washed over me.

“König, what are we doing?” I asked, trying to stay grounded.

“What do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head up to look at me.

“I mean, you don’t even know me. And I don’t know you.” I pointed out. König’s hands explored my back, making goosebumps appear wherever he touched.

“This is true.” He replied, bringing his hands down to rest on my hips. He leaned back against the wall behind him and stared up at me. “Are you going to get off?” He asked, gesturing to how I was sitting on his lap. I didn’t budge.

“Are you going to let go?” I asked in response, continuing to straddle his lap. König’s grip on my hips seemed to get tighter at my words.

“Nein.” He said breathily. His eyes fluttered lightly as I lowered myself onto him a bit more comfortably.

“What do you want then?” I asked, running my hands up the front of his chest, resting them just under his hood. There was silence for a moment as König reached up and pulled his hood up to his nose.

“You.” He said simply. My heart skipped a beat as I watched the word fall from his now visible lips. He then leaned forward off the wall and pressed his lips to mine. I was hesitant at first, feelings of uncertainty and fear still holding me tightly. But König was holding me tighter.

I kissed back, the sting of his canines nipping at my bottom lip making me want him more. I kissed him with more passion, König quick to match it, leaning into it more. I felt him buck up against me, followed by his chest swelling with a deep breath.

“Oh, Schatz~” he whimpered against my mouth. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed and moving to kiss the corner of his mouth. I trailed soft kisses down his right cheek, making my way down to his neck. His hands had moved to my thighs, fingers digging into my flesh with a bruising grip.

I kissed his neck softly, drawing little noises from him as I kissed each new spot. I trailed my hands down his arms and to his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I assured him, whispering against his neck. He groaned, bucking up into me again. I giggled a bit at his desperation and pulled back from his neck to look at his face. His lips were red, his eyes were closed and his eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure. I smiled down at him, placing my right hand on his left jaw, causing him to open his eyes.

“Your turn, big boy.” I said playfully. I saw confusion flash across his eyes and I began to crawl off of him.

“Wait,” he began to protest, reaching out for my arm. But I was fully off of him now, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Do your worst.” I said, quirking an eyebrow and opening my arms to him. Suddenly, his expression was no longer confused, but excited. He slowly sat up off of the wall and got on his knees. Then, he grabbed my ankles and yanked me toward him. I gasped, as the sudden impact of my back on the concrete floor startled me a bit.

Before I knew it, I was under him, his broad figure towering over me. I watched as he reached over his head, taking hold of the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Somehow, his hood stayed on his head, though it had fallen back down and covered his face again. I took in the sight of his beautifully toned chest, littered with scars, and glistening with a light coat of sweat.

I bit my bottom lip and looked back up into his eyes, seeing that he was smiling. I smiled back and glanced back down, seeing his dog tags hanging from around his neck. I reached up and took hold of them, twirling them between my fingers. König picked up his right knee and put it in between my legs, using his left hand to pull my legs apart, resting his left knee next to his right. Then he lowered his upper body down, laying his forearms on either side of my head and holding up his weight.

The warmth radiating from his body was enough to warm this whole room. He glanced down at his mask, then looked back up at me.

“Will you hold this for me?” He asked softly, leaning down to press his nose to mine. I nodded, reaching for the bottom of his mask and holding it above his nose like he had done before. As soon as the mask was away from his lips, he leaned down, kissing my lips harshly. He inhaled deeply, pulling away for a second, then diving back in, pushing his tongue passed my lips.

I felt his weight become heavier on top of me as he began to grind against me. His tongue lapped hungrily against every corner of mouth. I moaned softly against his lips, dropping his mask over my face so that could tangle my hands into his hair. He growled lowly, the vibrations from his chest rumbling against my own. He pulled back from my lips, lifting his head to take his mask off of my face.

“Scheiße~want you so bad, meine liebe.” He muttered, pressing his forehead to mine. HIs hips were stuttering against mine and I spread my legs further, wrapping them around his waist. I reached up and ran my hands up his chest to his neck.

“Then take me.” I said breathily, opening my eyes to meet his fiery gaze. His pupils dilated again and he reached over my head to turn off the lamp, leaving us in pitch blackness. I furrowed my brows in confusion until I saw König’s silhouette pulling his mask over his head. Then I felt his lips on mine again. I smiled against his mouth and then he pulled back again, kissing my chin, down to my throat. I ran my fingers through his hair again, holding him close as he began to leave bruises on the skin of my neck.

I moaned softly as he bit my flesh, kissing down my neck and then grabbing my shoulders, pulling me up from the ground.

“Off.” König said desperately, as he practically ripped my tank top from my chest. He then urgently reattached his mouth to my skin, licking a stripe from my belly button up to my neck. The noise that fell from my lips in that moment scared me. König wrapped his left hand around my throat, applying light pressure to keep me quiet. His right hand however, was flat against my chest, dragging down to my belt, which he quickly ripped from my waist in one go.

He tossed it to the side, making quick work of the button holding my pants together. My stomach was tying itself into knots. I reached up with my right hand to wrap around his wrist where his hand was still around my throat. I yelped as his hand made its way to where I needed him most.

“You ready, Schatz?” He asked from above me. I was a whimpering mess below him, unable to form words. I felt him lean down, looming over me. Then his lips were on my cheek, trailing down to my right ear.

“Not so tough now are you, hübsches mädchen?” He whispered. I bucked against his hand.

“Please~, just~” I whined. König gave me a satisfied huff.

“As you wish, Liebe.” He replied.

[mrsriddles-blog]

Reads of the Week: Jan 7-Jan 13

* indicates smut

best game* by @bettymylove

Lovebites and potions by @caramelcal

Date not so ruined by @bettymylove

One cup of coffee by @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns

Fools by @luv4freddie

what are friends for. by @s1ater

Just “Friends”* by @demieyesore

a moment. by @s1ater

butting heads. by @s1ater

church* by @jayybugg

Wipping his kisses by @vipwinnie

best game* by @bettymylove

Sleeping after an argument by @vipwinnie

Mascara* by @coryosbaby

my soul is too well entangled with you by @darkmagic-s

Silence treatment by @vipwinnie

missed you* by @eloravaleria

jumper* by @sapphicwhxre

strawberry kisses by @sapphicwhxre

[teklarain]

my beige flag is that i’ll listen to my cutesy lil love songs while reading the filthiest most jaw dropping smut to ever exist.

[cottonundiestf]

2024 is almost over, and you should celebrate with a wicked villainess turning bright young heroines into bimbos!

My Silver Queen's Superharem series is discounted at Smashwords for the Smashwords End of Year Sale, so you should totally grab it before year's end!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/57685

[musashden]

Trying to decide between expression here for the full pic. This might turn into a bookmark for future orders of Jules

So tell me... Which expression looks best?

[sweetpandorabox]

Blood Purity - Draco Malfoy x Female Reader (Part 1)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Synopsis: Keeping your family's Blood Purity and having high values when it comes to Intelligence and wisdom, is a duty and a sacred tradition all your family members of all generations have to follow. Getting sorted into Ravenclaw proving your worth, and following in your ancestor's footsteps, and keeping an Outstanding grade all the way through in Hogwarts kept your parents happy and proud, but not yet joyful. After 7 years of your Hogwarts journey coming to an end, they expect you to marry into a powerful pure-blooded family. As they take matters into their own hands your parents arranged a marriage for you based on a deal, to a boy who came from a powerful and pure-blooded family who you've despised for years.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Story Setting: The story is set in the year the 2000s, 2 years after the Battle of Hogwarts takes place, you and Draco were born in the 80s which would make the two of you around 20 years old in this Fanfiction. (anything in italic and bolded is a flashback scene btw)

Terms 📖:

Y/N - Your name

Y/H/C - Your hair color

Y/E/C - Your eye color

Warnings⚠️: Forced Proximity, Arguments, Bullying, Swearing and Slight Sexual Themes.

A/N: Hey cuties, sorry I've been gone for a while but I'm finally back, I wanted to start writing for Draco Malfoy because I actually love him, he's my 2nd Favorite Harry Potter boy and thought a forced proximity trope would be good and it would fit so well with the life he had in the Harry Potter books, but yeah I hope you enjoy this one I'm not used to writing something with a darker atmosphere and a more mature fanfiction here but I'm trying lol. love you. xx

Word Count: 1,959

The warm fireplace distributes its warm heat throughout the Malfoy Manor's dining hall, saving you from the cool winds of spring outdoors. The sounds of a crackling fire, quiet chatters, and sounds of cutlery being used against the delicate china plates plastered with grey floral designs played harmonically in your ear as you kept your eyes glued down on your plate of food, putting on a somewhat neutral face toying around with the contains you've been served without taking a single bite. "Y/N, at around 11pm tomorrow, you'll have to meet me and Narcissa at Sinclair's Weddings at Diagon Alley, it's for your dress fitting" your mother mentioned with a proud smile peeking through her lips, you raised your head up, and face to your right with a confused look watching your Mother takes a bite of her food, "But Mother, we've only been engaged for two weeks?" you asked with suspense trailing behind your voice, "Oh don't be silly Y/N, you and Draco are perfect for each other, it isn't worth waiting any longer," she replies sharing a smile with Narcissa from across the table as Narcissa did vise versa, "And besides everything has been taken care off, like the official date, venue, the food, the guest. You and Draco will love it" she continued. As silence roams back to the dinner table everyone continues to eat, you take a moment to pause and shift your gaze across the table to the blonde boy, focusing his pair of striking grey eyes solely on his food keeping his mouth shut and his head low.

You watched as he eyed down his food, showing no interest in anyone else taking a mouthful bite. Draco Lucius Malfoy goes far beyond your earliest memories of Hogwarts, known to be a bully and a Slytherin prince he paints a picture of himself as a snob and vile evil person, yet cowardice who enjoys taunting others for his own amusement, he gets anything and everything he wants no matter the circumstances as well. You kept to yourself most of the time during your Hogwarts years as a quiet and reserved Ravenclaw, having friends from all 4 houses and not favoring one over the other, you treated everybody equally, overlooking their blood status despite your family's belief, in 4th year however you've taken fond of Ronald Weasley who came from a pure-blooded yet poor family, you started dating him for 2 years but you don't find it easy in the slightest, as constant tournament form Draco swarms over you and Ron, he'd make snarky comments about you and the blood traitor as he calls him. Regular filthy stares came from Draco if you and Ron would show any amount of affection towards each other, because if it wasn't the harsh/shameful comments or filthy stares, Draco always finds another way to break whatever the two of you had.

"So I take it you'll be coming to my manor tomorrow night, make sure you put on that royal blue slip-on dress you always wear, you know the one with the sweetheart neckline, I find it quite alluring" Draco commented as he circle you with his minions chuckling, giving you a smirk and a playful wink. Ron stares in confusion between the two of you, realizing what had just happened you hold on to Ron's wrist, dragging him away quickly from the trio making sure you master up the dirtiest look you can give to the blonde boy, bumping his shoulder as you walk past fiercely drowning the sounds of wicked laughter behind you down. After the past event, Ron grew suspicious and demanded answers to what Draco meant earlier, not wanting to argue with your then-boyfriend you had no choice but to reveal a secret that nobody else knew about, "Ron, please just listen to me... The Malfoys and The Callahan have always been a close-knit group due to their mutual obsession over blood purity. Malfoy's mother and mine happen to be best of friends ever since their Hogwarts years, we have dinner parties with the Malfoys once every fortnight, that's all he meant by that...and since Christmas break is coming up, Draco and I will be home so it seems to be the perfect opportunity to have one in awhile... that's all I promise," you pleaded with guilt. Learning that information made Ron angry, as he decided to keep himself from you for days after that.

3 days have passed since Ron has last spoken to you, growing tired of his ignorance, you march up to the Slytherin table angrily, you scan the Slytherin table for a bleach-blonde head full of hair, and as you spot him you dash right over "Can I talk to you for a minute?" You ask, crossing your arm in frustration, matching the facial expression you displayed. Draco smirks, wasting no time and trails behind you as he leaves his group of unbothered Slytherins. You both settled outside the quiet hallway, leaving the great hall behind before you converse, "Malfoy, I really don't appreciate the comment you made 3 days ago... I mean, what are you honestly trying to do? Can't you see I'm happy?" you huffed out in frustration looking up at the tall figure, as his grey eyes pierced down at your small frame, he paused taken aback by your frustration before scoffing "What am I trying to do?... What am I trying to do? you're really asking that Callahan? he's a blood traitor. You can do so much better than that filthy Gryffindor... when are you going to realize your family would never accept him for who he is" he commented, without realizing how close he was getting to you, you backed up into the stone-cold wall, keeping eye contact with him, as he rests one of his hand on the wall by your head pinning you down.

Tensions spike up high between the two of you as your body comes closer and closer together. "When are you going to realize that your happiness could be right in front of you this whole time?" Draco blurted leaning his soft face closer to you and tilting his head, your cheek changed its shade into crimson red before you broke eye contact hearing footsteps walking away to your left cutting the tight tension, you watched as your loving boyfriend stormed away from what he'd seen, You panicked as he kept going never to look back at you, "Ron...Ron come back" you pleaded, pushing Draco away from you as you run after the Weasley boy leaving Malfoy on his own. The next day Ron breaks it off with you quick, for the very first time you feel as though you aren't worthy of any happiness as your heartbreak drives you into despair, you miss out on meals, frequently find yourself sobbing, and eventually watch as Ron fell in love with Hermione, from that day on you swore to yourself that you despise and hated Draco Malfoy and you will never change your mind about him. The sudden flashback made you fidgety as you smoothed out your old silky royal blue, slip-on dress. The one you've had since you were a teenager not having grown much physically making it fit you like a glove. After dinner has ended, you join your family in expressing their gratitude for the delicious meal and farewells to the Malfoys, completely ignoring Draco as he seems to do with you anyway. You embrace your future mother-in-law Narcissa warmly as she does vice versa and give your future father-in-law Lucious a firm yet polite smile as he smiles back and nods to show his understanding.

Dobby the house elf clicked his finger towards the grand, wooden double door to open it revealing an exit point for you, and your parents finally departing away from the Malfoy manor as you Apparate back to your own mansion, located not far from your fiancé's, ending the night in a blur as you quickly try and sleep it off in order to mentally prepare yourself for the dress fitting your mother and your mother in law has so wonderfully booked and plan. After the battle of Hogwarts took place in 1998 you went back to Hogwarts to finish your 7th year around the same time as Hermione Granger did, making sure you have all the qualifications needed to find the best job that the Wizarding World offers, even if a job isn't necessary for you to have because of the amount money your family has inherited over generations. During the battle of Hogwarts, you weren't actually present at all, since Narcissa warns your mother about the secret attack and plans that the Dark Lord schemes for Potter and how dangerous this war is, so she advised your mother to keep you home and not let you return for your 7th year, and although Narcissa isn't supportive of the Dark Lord at all she is supportive of her Husband and Son, so she has to be present there, but it doesn't mean she can't warn her best friend, your mother, and her family to stay safe and not partake in the war whatsoever and to let it pass you. So that's what your mother and father agreed on doing, keeping you home after explaining the circumstances to you.

Your eyes started to glimmer as salty tears started to fog up your vision, you were distraught by the news and realized that the people you care about over at Hogwarts like your friends and some of the professors who had made a real impact on you might potentially lose their lives over this war. You wanted to help badly, you wanted to be there to protect the ones you care about, but your parents will never allow it as they fear the worst and might end up losing their one and only child, so you slump and cry over it for days in your grand mansion until you've heard the news a week later that most people have survived the war including the Malfoy's and that the Dark Lord was finally conquered. It took a while, but Hogwarts was rebuilt soon after that, and once September rolled back around Hogwarts was ready to bring in young witches and wizards who were ready to embark on their early education, and even welcome those who were not able to finish their last year back with open arms. You studied hard and kept very much focused on all your classes to the point where your NEWT marks show only Outstanding grades all across, simply showering your parents with great pride and joy to have you as their daughter. This time around you sort of hated the idea of leaving school after graduating, Hogwarts was a nicer and much simpler place without some knucklehead like Draco Malfoy running around taunting people or trying to pull your pisser almost every day to annoy and ruin your schooling experience.

You enjoyed your time at Hogwarts without him, but you do tend to wonder if he was alright, or how he's doing or coping after the war. Your mother and father haven't gotten in touch with the Malfoy for a couple of months now as they went into hiding in their own mansion and kept quiet to themselves, laying low in order to keep them from trouble with the Ministry as they potentially find out the ties that the Malfoy family had with the Dark Lord, so for a while, there weren't many connections between the Callahan's and the Malfoy's, a period of time where you enjoyed life as it is because the one person you truly despise and hated is gone from your life, just like you wanted it too.

Taglist : @igncrantbliss @milivanili99 @nighttimemoonlover @el-de-phi

!Click here for part 2!

[deesseshesca]

Why am I emotional ?

And suddenly it was just me… FUCK it is just me. 

Good evening, pretty souls, today we are checking on your emotional scale. What is affecting you now, how can we fix it and how to minimize the damage in the process of doing so. 

ANNOUNCEMENT 

I will be giving full reading for a very affordable price (almost free) but there will only be 3 spots available. Stay posted on my blog, so you don’t miss this opportunity. 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is send with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

TW: R@pe, S@cide

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

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CHOOSE AN IMAGE

PILE 1

Two wands, Ace swords, Justice, Queen wands, ‘’Please unblock me … Yeah, that’s me calling you from an unknown number’’, ‘’ I have abandonment issues ! I grew up in a single parent household ! I had a rough childhood”

HEYY !!! Spiritual girly. I’m talking to earthy aesthetic girls. The one that smells like coco butter and vanilla walking around in a long skirt, crop top and too many jewels. When it comes to you, the cauldron told me about an opportunity that finally touches your hand. When I dive deeper into the message, I’m sensing something that took a lot of hard work and a lot of faith. For a long time it was just an idea in your mind for which you fought for it to materialize into the 3D. Congratulations babes ! A lot of obstacles came in the way but you stay resilient. That also was not easy since your faith was often tested in the meantime. I’m getting a new opportunity, a new career field opening, and the start of a new hobby/business. You finally have the time and funds to dive deep into a project. I’m hearing: ‘’I’ll be dammed if I let you fuck me up’’. At the moment, you feel a bit overwhelmed. Now that the gift is sitting on your porch, you don’t actually know how to approach it. What do you want VS what you need ? Your desires or your needs, first ? One is all about the action while the other path is all about trusting the process called ‘’life’’. A lot of people all of the sudden seem very worried about your actions. Acting like the decision you are making has a huge impact on their destiny. If I may, girl f them. If they paid attention earlier, they would have noticed you were not happy with your life . Now all of the sudden they care so much about what's happening to you. Like…Let’s be frl. You have to stand up for yourself. Whatever decision you make regarding that situation, you will NEED to voice it. Is insomnia keeping you up at night ? Well let’s start to implement some meditation before sleep. So you can be less in your head. Try to be more practical with your way of living. Rn I feel like you always looked like a baddie but it’s only recently that you actually felt like one.  Advice: Don’t slow down. Is easy now since you finally receive what you pray for, to relax and enjoy but it is only the beginning. Don’t try to accommodate or to one. Put yourself FIRST. 

Love 

The ex of your dude ( the fact that i did not choose a lover, sneaky link or even crush. Girl why are still holding on for. LOL. ) Is trying to get him back. And you really don’t give a damn. I feel like you don’t even want him. But he is stuck on you like glue. I think the thing that completely broke the bond between y'all is that he doesn't want you to be better. Like you announce him the good news and he knew you really wanted it. Now he wants you to let it go. BOY BYE ! BYEEEE! You don’t even hate him, you feel disgusted that he even thought his opinion mattered that much. Plus he keeps mentioning you change. Babe you did ! Don’t let him bully out of your shit. Now you are more sexually confident with yourself and bold with your boundaries. Him: You were more submissive back than. You: Now I have shit I care for. Advice: STAND ON BUSINESS. If he is block let him stay there. Yes, he is the unknown number that is trying to reach you. 

PILE 2

Hanged man, Moon, Ten pentacles (reverse), Tower, 1111, 777, ‘’I want a second chance ! Not being with you is killing me !’’ 

Heyy… pile 2, you are my TW pile. Before you get deeper in the reading just know it is completely fine for you to take another one especially if you are not ready to talk about it. To beginning , when I was channeling, I first sang a very happy song. Then a faint voice called for help. At that exact moment the card fell out. First let go of the struggle especially if you try everything and nothing is working. Take a moment to breathe. Is time to surrender to life and believe that it will actually bring you to a better place. Let go of the victim and become the warrior you needed from others. Start your healing journey, go to therapy, take your pills, do some journaling. I know when you are reading you probably smirk. I’m speaking with experience, babies. Is not going to change overnight. But as I am channeling, I'm picturing you in a very messy room with molding left over surrounding you.  I keep hearing ‘’ I was NEVER like this before’’. I know babies, I know how such experience can change you. You are FUCKING powerful. I’m not saying this because of trauma, that’s what I channel. You were always standing on your power and someone tried to knock you off your throne. One small change at a time, like cleaning your room once a week. Drinking one water bottle a day. Eating at least 3 times a day even if it is a snack is going to get you going. Right now, you must be feeling fucked up. Like he hurt you. He took away your spark,  why should you try to get it back. When such an event happens in people's life, it is re-birth. Is time to re-learn to live again. Choose your pace and take it day by day. Nobody truly heals from it, I can assure you that. But you can learn to live a thriving life despite it. Instead of going on the hunt for the old version of you, learn about this new you. Pay attention to your dreams, there is a message in them. Reflect on your inner voice. Don’ t allow others to dictate how you are supposed to heal even if what you feel right now is numbness. Stick to your guns since you are the only one that knows you best at the moment. A good opportunity or news is going to present itself in divine timing. You will be sitting in the right place and right moment. One of your wishes will come true. Something worth living will come out of this situation. There’s good luck heading your way. All wisdom gain from this journey would be very helpful to the community if you ever decide to share it one day. 

LOVE 

You are with someone that your friends and family don’t approve of. And the icing on the cake , you don’t like them either. You don’t want to be alone and you are too ‘’broken’’ for a healthy relationship so you are distracting yourself with that. Let me be the bearer of bad (good) news, this relationship will end. Your distraction will leave and reality will hit. One thing I see, they will play games in front of your face. They will even threaten to kill themself, just to keep you sucked in. Text them number phone for help online and move on. Don’t engage more than that. What is more fuck up, is that they keep you close just have sex with you. 

Song: Praying-Kei$ha

Loves classic English literature, read the bible just for fun, future witch

PILE 3 (18+) 

Lovers (reverse), Page Wands, Strength, Hanged man, ‘’I love your swag ! You are the whole package !’’,444

Hey…beyhives. I feel like, I’m only speaking to Beyonce stan at the moment. You guys are still bumping the country album of Queen B, like it came out yesterday. You guys are weirdly connected to my spiritual team because it feels like I was meant to read for you. Let’s get into it. People don’t realize how kinky you are, they know you are freaky. But nah… y’all are KINKY. You are a person that is aware of your sexual power and don't mind using it to your advantage. Your manners , your body, your sensuality, attract and please other people. You know what button to push. You are a very experienced  and sensual lover. Not shy at all, actually very confident. 

LOVE 

I feel like you are looking for a confirmation. Let me be. Your relationship has run it’s time. I don't even think y’all ever loved him. But he was the only one that allow you dual nature. I’m getting from the outside y’all are super cute, but in the bed a pure beast. You guy LOVE sex. You are scared that you are never going to find someone that will get you stamina without judging you by calling your names, especially if you identify as women. He cheated. Which made you extremely possessive and jealous. So you use sex to control him. I’m hearing: How DARE you think you can find better than me ! Advice : Start something new take a break from your love life and slowdown on sex for a minute. Usually if you have more sexual energy than usual it is because your body's calling you to create. Think about it: to create life we need to get nasty in the bedroom. Imma need you to get nasty in your career. Find something that is passionate about you  and go hard (ahahaha). Look at the bigger picture, you are way to focus on him. Feel the fear and do it anyway. You are fearful of rejection. That’s why you allow this man to take the best out of you. Find a new source of inspiration and shake off the blues. Right now contrary to what you might think, you are not sitting in your divine feminine energy. Since you are in such war mode, it is almost completely masculine. Plus, he doesn't care for you at ALL. But he does know that they will never be another woman like you.

Song: Haunted-Beyonce 

Platinum blond hair, very fair skin, very light blue eyes, luscious lips and round face. Face card is LETHAL. 

[peaches-and-cherries]

Michael exhaled a chuckle, the sound low and knowing. “You and your baking obsessions,” he murmured, stepping closer. The space between them dissolved, the air growing thicker and more charged. His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing just enough to make her breath hitch. “Can’t you rest for one night?”

She shivered, not from the chill outside but from the slow, deliberate way he pulled her against him. Her pulse thrummed in her throat as she tilted her chin up, her blue eyes meeting his in challenge.

“I’ll try.”

His grip tightened, just for a second. Approval. Control. A reminder. “Good,” he said, his voice edged with something darker. “Because tomorrow is a big day.”

Emily swallowed, heat curling in her belly—not just from the ovens. She knew what he meant. The bakery opening, yes. But also… them. Their rules. The way she kept breaking them.

A sharp beep cut through the tension, the oven’s timer demanding attention. She jumped, pulse hammering, but Michael didn’t let her go. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “Looks like that’s your cue.”

She barely had time to respond before he lifted her effortlessly, her world tilting as he carried her toward the bedroom.

Emily gasped, then giggled—soft, breathless, teasing. “What about my croissants?”

Michael smirked against her skin. “They’ll be fine.”

But her? Oh, she wouldn’t be getting any rest tonight.

Michael laid her down gently, his hands still holding her close. She could feel the heat radiating off him. They kissed passionately, their lips meeting like two magnets drawn together by an unseen force. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, exploring her soft tongue, each movement deliberate, teasing. His fingers traced down her sides, sending shivers across her skin, before making their way down towards her already wet and needy pussy, his touch both possessive and restrained. Emily arched into him, her own hands seeking him out, desperate to close the space between them.

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💦🥵💦🥵

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

☞︎𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈︎☜︎

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝑨𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏(𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑺)𝑿𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, Oral Sex (M!receiving), Hair Pulling, Dirty Talking, Praise, Dom/Sub Dynamics

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 1.6K

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: All the smut and little plot 😝

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: Credit: This is my own spin off to a story I read on here and I can’t find the story again, so please, please text me for inspo credit!

𝑷.𝑺. This is my first story since I started up writing again! Please feel free to send me a DM with suggestions or advice! Banners by @cafekitsune !

𝐸𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 🖤

"I’ve never done this before,"

You lowly admit, the rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you sink to your knees on Anakin’s bedroom floor. Panic and excitement warred within you, mingling with a heady anticipation of the unknown. As you both surrendered to the electric tension that had been building between you, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind - are you ready to embrace the unknown, or are you merely a passenger on this journey of forbidden desire?

Amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remains clear - in this moment, you feel truly alive. Being naked and this vulnerable in front of Anakin was not only a new experience but a thrilling one as well. His thumb traces your bottom lip as he lets you wrestle his pants off. The riveting touch of his rough fingers against your silk-like skin sends coded messages throughout your nerves, igniting a firestorm of desire that attempts to consume you whole. His tongue glides along his bottom lip and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his lips got more attractive when he covered them in his spit. Not to mention the raw intensity of his gaze. Those eyes, his enchanting blue eyes, stare down at you. His glare sends a rush of heat flooding your cheeks followed by a flush of arousal, steadily adding to the boiling desire within you.

Every word— No— Every syllable that leaves your pretty pink lips seems to fan the flames kindling within him.

He needed you.

"You'll be perfect, y/n— Just—"

His words trail off into a low, deep growl but the expression in his eyes speak volumes as your hand tentatively wraps around him. Butterfly wings flutter in your stomach while nervousness churns within you. He rolls his head back and takes a deep, labored breath. As his hand quickly reaches out and tangles roughly in your hair, you feel a surge of electricity radiating from his touch, a tangible reminder of the hunger simmering between you. The urgency in his actions sends a shock racing down your spine, a mixture of fervor and anxiety starting to pool in the front of your mind as he pushes you closer to his pulsing cock.

"Mmm," Anakin's mouth betrays him as you take his tip into your wet lips. The sweetness of his precum travels through your tastebuds as you swirl around him, trying to take more of him in. His cock makes your mouth feel full and warm as his hand in your hair guides you. Your thoughts cloud quickly as you let yourself fall into your own sense of pleasure.

You glance up to catch a glimpse of the lovely Jedi; his stomach flexing and sweat glistens on his bare skin while his left hand holds the front of his robe lazily to his chest. His flush lips are parted in awe and those beautiful blue eyes were staring down at you. The feeling of having all of his undivided attention makes your core tighten, and you use the feeling of satisfaction to push your throat further around his cock.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” his tone is smooth and it rings through your ears, erupting a small chill that races down your neck. The scruff of his pubes grazes your lip as his hair-wrapped hand holds your head firmly in place. Your throat starts to contract, begging you for air as lines of drool trail down from the corners of your mouth. A sound croaks from your throat you’d never heard before, and his grip tightens on your hair. He quickly yanks you off of him, oxygen filling your lungs with a stab as the sharp pain from his pull elicits a small gasp. Coughing and trying to catch your breath you look up at him, unsure of what had gone wrong.

"What? What’s wrong?” You question him hoarsely, worriying you had somehow messed up.

“What happened?" You clutch your hands to his muscular thighs as you stare intently, searching his face for an answer. Had you done something wrong? Did you mess up? Your thoughts fill with worry.

His eyes seem to darken, they’re cloudy with unspoken words, while his mouth remains slightly ajar. You observe, a pang of uncertainty gnawing at your insides as you meet his gaze.

Doubt knots within you as you awaite his next move. His hand still tangled in your hair, he chuckles. The low rumble of his laugh sounds of the harshest silk yet glides gracefully through the air and melts into your ears and runs down your spine.

"You said this was your first time?" He questions.

You nod your head in agreement.

'How is that possible?' He thought to himself, 'I felt the back of her throat. I felt it. She didn’t fight when I force her to stay choking.'

His thoughts run wild with a trillion ideas, excitement sparkling in those darkened blue eyes. His hand tugs tightly at your hair which forces your head back with a snap. His next words come out… Well, in no other way than demanding.

"Open."

A jolt courses through you and having no reason not to oblige, you open your mouth, letting your tongue drape across your bottom lip. With each breathless moment that passes, you find yourself teetering on the edge of surrender, torn between the intoxicating pull of Anakin and the lingering echoes of hesitation. He begins smacking his tip on your tongue, a wet thwacking sound filling his small chamber.

“Just-Relax” His voice was sweet yet holds a sternness to it that made those pestering noises of hesitation in your mind quickly die off.

His mouth slowly parts again, a sight you’re growing to love, as he guides his cock into your mouth ever so slightly just to pull it back out, raking it across your spit covered tongue. His other hand leaves your hair and grips his robe tightly, trying to keep it on his chest and out of your way.

“You know you messed up,” Anakin’s hips rock into you, small groans leaving his plump lips.

“Now that I know you can take me, you’re never leaving my sight,”

The words left his lips and flowed through the air like a cold breeze on a hot day, it made goosebumps trickle all over your body.

The taste of his cock was foreign to your tastebuds, you weren’t sure how to feel about the new taste. Anakin's grip on your hair becomes increasingly tighter as he pushes you to take his full length into your throat once again. The sharp pull on your scalp was minuscule compared to the fire burning in your stomach. This time was harder than the last; it was like he doubled in girth and size in the small amount of time he wasn’t in your mouth. Disregarding your attempts to breathe he held you firmly, staring down at you. Those blue orbs were packed full with lust as his mouth continued to murmur slurs and praises one after the other.

"Fuck. Mmm shit… yes, like that, such a good girl," He could feel every time your throat retracted; it was sending him clear over the edge as he let himself sit in the back of your throat. Roughly, he thrusts his hips into your face, getting as deep into your tight little throat as he could before quickly pulling back his hips and forcing your head off and backwards. The sudden exit from your mouth has you letting out a deep cough, drool trails down your chin and begins to cover your neck. You try taking multiple deep breaths to regain some kind of composure, but Anakin didn’t want to see you composed.. No, quite the opposite. He wanted to see you completely overwrought and undone.

Without warning his firm grasp on your hair draws you back onto his dripping wet member with relentless urgency, leaving you no time to prepare as he fucks your throat at an impatient pace. When he wasn’t holding his cock as deep as it would get in the back of your throat, he was holding you tightly in place as he rocked his hips into you, desperately trying to chase his climax.

Your eyes burned with tears and your throat cried for release. The gags and chokes that were leaving your abused mouth were sounds of unholy scripture to his ears and it gave him exactly what he needed to release deep into your throat. He threw his head back as his groans ripple out, he practically growls your name.

It didn’t take much for you to swallow his load. He was so deep into your throat that he was practically in your stomach by the time his cum flowed out of him. Even after his release, his hand stays thoroughly clutching the back of your head, not letting you move an inch off his cock as he pulses in your mouth.

“Oh yeah, you’re mine,”

Anakin’s words were hazy to your ears as his chest heaved with deep labored breaths. Your lungs beg for oxygen and your body reacts to its signals for help. Your arms shot up to his thick thighs, trying to push off. He refuses to free his hold for what seems like an eternity, though in reality only a few seconds pass as he keeps you in place.

With a forceful tug he jerks your head back, tilting your face up to meet his gaping gaze. Your face is covered in spit and tears. He can’t help but admire you, thinking, you have never looked more beautiful, never more stunning than right now. His chest continues to heave as he drops his robe down, his other hand remaining firmly around your hair. Your eyes flicker up to his, fluttering as you try desperately to catch your breath. Anakin, in turn, has never looked more extraordinary in your eyes, the sweat glimmering on his eyebrows, his lips curved into a delicious smirk.

That smirk plastered on his face deepens as he surveys the masterpiece he has created on your face. A scene straight out of a movie, one he couldn’t take his eyes off. His sapphire blue orbs dance with ecstasy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he attempts to slow his racing heart rate.

“Your mouth will only ever know my dick,” He said proudly.

“Do you understand?” His words echo in your mind, a heady mix of validation and vulnerability washes over you in waves as he used his now free hand to caress your liquid-covered cheeks.