#and he has a 'special partition'

[day-mark]

dream and his special grape partition 🍇🧊

[moonchildstyles]

strawberry

pomegranate part three: y/n goes on a date and harry has a migraine. but she comes back.

wordcount: 9k

—————

"H? Where are you?" 

Harry, with his eyes reading the label on a can of enchilada sauce, called over the partition of the aisle, "Over here, (Y/N)." 

Just as quickly, he heard pattering footsteps rounding the endcap and heading right towards him. When she had wandered off for laundry detergent and a new book, she had left him with empty hands. Now, she had returned with no laundry detergent, but two books, a bag of chocolate covered fruit, and a jar of honey with the comb floating through the amber. 

"Look, look," she chattered, racing towards him with the jar of honey extended, "It's the kind with the honeycomb in it, look." 

A soft smile touched Harry's lips. He took the jar as if receiving a gracious gift, replacing all of his attention on the label instead of the dinner list he had been working on. 

He hummed a pleased noise at the sight of the honey. "'S like the ones in the video—with the fancy cheese and all." 

"That's what I was thinking!" 

While Harry was interested in making one of the recipes (Y/N) had sent him many videos of, seeing the smile on her face when he dropped the jar in the basket was worth much more. Even when they started down the aisle, (Y/N)'s face in her phone looking up recipes they could try out with her new find, Harry couldn't get that smile out of his head. 

Though it was a delusion he wasn't fond of letting himself live in, he swore something had changed after that kiss a couple of weeks earlier. He couldn't be sure if he was just searching for something special to be growing between them, but it was hard to recall moments that she had smiled at him like that before they had kissed. 

He swore she'd never looked at him with moony eyes like that. That she'd never stretched her grin that wide before. That every time she reached out to him, felt his skin under her palms, that something sparkled in her eyes. 

Harry was inclined to assume those details were things he only saw because he wanted to see them, but she had kissed him back just as intensely. More often than not, sleepovers were shared either in his bedroom or out in the living room of their home, (Y/N) always finding her way into his space, just short of wrapping her limbs around him. Kisses on his cheek was the norm, something shared any time they were to be apart for longer than a few hours. Even their television nights on the couch were dotted with thighs pressed together, legs draped over his lap, her head on his shoulder. She wasn't even soft and sleepy when she started melting all over him, she just wanted to be close to him. 

But, much like the first time they'd done anything more, they hadn't discussed a single moment of that night on the couch. Not when she had been on her knees before him, how he'd confessed to building a home for her right in the forefront of his mind, or the loss of control he had when he pressed his lips to hers just after he'd cum in her mouth. 

Every pining affection he held for her was now turned up to max volume. His nights were plagued by the idea of her climbing into the bed right with him, whether to give into more of his fantasies or just to rest her head on his chest. She was slowly but surely backing him into a corner where there was nowhere for him to run. The space in his heart was becoming cramped the more of her she was able to sneak inside. Harry worried just how much longer he was going to be able to keep his head on straight and react like a normal roommate before he was going to explode and spill all his guts out for her to see.

"H, look!" (Y/N)'s chirping voice brought Harry back to the middle of the supermarket, her phone being shoved in his face. On the screen was a bubbling wheel of cheese with sweet honey and crisped prosciutto, crusty bread dipped into the paste. "Do you think we could do this?! Is there brie here?" 

Peering at her over the top of her phone, a small smile curled the corners of his mouth. He was going to do anything she asked of him, even something as simple as finding a cheese for her. 

Because Harry loved her. He doubted there was ever a time he didn't. 

"'M sure we can find something." 

Her rewarding smile was enough for him. He'd pretend it was just for him.

—————

Harry groaned, rolling in his sheets with his pillow fluffed under his head. Despite the curtains drawn, his eyes pinched shut and noise cancelling headphones over his ears, his bedroom needed to be darker and quieter. If not, he feared his brain was going to squeeze itself out of his ears. 

Work wasn't even that stressful today, especially since he'd worked remotely for the day. There was no real reason that there should be any kind of pressure building behind his eyes. 

He just wanted to sleep. Hopefully, when he woke up this migraine would be over.

A gentle hand landing on his shoulder, pinched that hope out of his mind. Muffled through the silence of his headphones, he heard the syllables of his name. 

Taking in a balancing deep breath, Harry forced his eyes to crack open. He twisted in his sheets, finding (Y/N) hovering above him. Concern swam in her eyes, her lips set in a thin line. 

As he figured, her makeup was swept in pretty pinks and mauves over her skin. Her eyes shimmered with flecks of glitter, lashes fluttering wisps. Her hair was done, twisted out of her face with stray strands framing her face. The heart-shaped locket around her neck dangled down above him.

He didn't have to scan over her to know the dress she had picked out for the night. She had asked him a million times yesterday which one of the outfits she had in her closet would work best for her date tonight. 

For her fancy date. Her first with some blonde-haired man she met on an app.

The reminder was enough to have another surge of pressure bubbling inside his skull. 

Inching one of the cups of his headphones off of his ear, Harry quietly hummed in question. 

"How are you? Are you feeling any better?" (Y/N) whispered, her voice low enough to not trigger any extra pain in his head. 

"Not really," he muttered, his voice graveled from disuse.

Her lips puffed into a pout. "H," she murmured, her voice drawling in a croon, "Is there anything you need? Anything I can grab before I go?" 

A dull throb pounded against his skull. 

"'M alright." 

(Y/N) looked far from convinced. He watched as she pinched her lips between her teeth. 

She didn't say much before she climbed into bed beside him. Her hair piled against his pillow, her breath fanning across his skin as she settled in. 

"Can I stay here before I leave?" 

Her eyes met his with clear intensity. Everything was soft as she gazed at him, brows downturned in concern with her iris melting before him. 

He only nodded, eyes fluttering closed. 

Harry felt her arms wrap around him only a moment later. Her forehead gently rested on his when she pulled him closer, the very tips of their noses grazing one another. For the first time all afternoon, his splitting headache dulled just enough. 

The pile of blankets around his hips felt cold in comparison to her hold. Her fingers driving through the curls on the back of his neck had his muscles melting, his bones loosening after being wound so tight for so long. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips. 

With his eyes still closed, Harry could only feel the heat of her skin as she drew closer. The tip of her nose brushed the bridge of his own just before the touch disappeared, replaced with the soft of her glossed lips landing in the same spot. She dotted kisses down his nose, to the apple of his cheek, to the very corner of his mouth. 

He couldn't help but lean into her affection. He'd missed this—despite only having her kiss once, he missed it like he'd left behind a childhood comfort. Her touch was a balm to his nerves, soothing even his migraine. 

One hand on the back of his neck slid around until she had his cheek cupped in her palm. She thumbed away the sparkling kiss marks she no doubt made in her wake. 

"I'm going to miss you tonight, H." 

Then stay.

His heart ached more than his head when he choked back the instinctive words. Even with the sweet press of her lips and graze of her hands over his skin, she was going on a date tonight. 

This was just how she expressed her care for him now, with all of these barriers of touchy-affection broken down. 

Forcing himself to pull back, Harry cracked his eyes open. He looked at her, sparkling eyes and frowning lips. 

"I'll miss you, too," he confessed, unsure if she felt the weight he attached to his words, "What time do y'have to leave?" 

It was her turn to sigh, the exhale pushing her perfume towards him in a vanilla plume. "Probably now." 

He gave her a smile that he hoped didn't give away just how sad he was. "Excited?" 

(Y/N) nodded, only a lopsided smile touching her mouth. "I'll be home soon, though. Call me if you need me to pick anything up for you, okay?" 

It was Harry's turn to tip his chin in a nod. 

With only the sound of the sheets rustling around their bodies, (Y/N) gave him one last hug before peeling away. She crawled out of his bed with Harry's eyes following her. 

She crossed his room with her dress flaring around her hips. Stopping in the threshold, she turned to look at him once more. 

"I made some spaghetti noodles for you if you're hungry, but if you want something from the restaurant, let me know." Her lips bloomed into a soft smile, though Harry didn't see the same warmth light her eyes. "I'll see you soon." 

"Have fun, (Y/N)." 

She didn't offer any cheeky promise the way she would have only weeks ago when embarking on a date. (Y/N)'s smile lingered on him for a passing moment before she left him be. 

Absently, while lying amongst his sheets, Harry heard her movements through the home. He didn’t have to see her to know that she was tracking down her shoes, spritzing a final spray of perfume, fluffing her hair and reapplying her lip gloss. Usually, he enjoyed watching these finishing touches, he thought it was cute how much effort she put into nights like these—even if he wasn't really a fan of the fact she was out meeting someone else. 

But, tonight, he almost wanted to rise from his bed like a zombie and catch her mid-haste. Stop her and force her to come back to his crypt to keep her forever. 

Nonetheless, the sound of the door swinging open only to be clicked shut a moment later filled the house. 

A throb rang through his head. 

He just needed to sleep.

—————

Slouched under a pile of blankets on the sofa, Harry almost wished he still had his migraine. That way he would have at least been distracted from watching the ticking time on his phone, the minutes pushing the night on later and later. 

And, (Y/N) still wasn't home. 

While he wasn't apt to admit it aloud, Harry knew tonight was the trigger for his migraine. The idea of (Y/N) all dressed up, sitting across from another over candlelight, flirting and playing footsie under the table, had his stomach roiling. He couldn't get himself to regret any moment spent with (Y/N), especially between the sheets or with her on her knees before him, but it definitely had to be the catalyst that was pushing him to take this first date so personal. 

That's what he deserved, messing around with his roommate who only thought of him as such. 

The pint of ice cream he plucked from the freezer was beginning to form a soup in the cardboard confines, unable to stomach any more of the comfort treat. It was nine p.m. and she still wasn't home. 

She would have texted him if she was planning on spending the night elsewhere, though. That was something she always did. She wouldn't have forgotten about him. Right?

Like an answer to unspoken prayers, the sound of the garage door lifting shuddered through the house. Twisting in his spot, he watched as she swept inside, her hair loose from its earlier constraints and her mouth in a thin line. 

(Y/N) didn't spot him at first, most likely figuring he was still holed up in his room. He watched as she dropped her bag from her shoulder, her jaw in a stern line. She definitely didn't have that shy, pleased expression he usually did after a first date gone well. No sheepish smile as she plucked her phone from her purse, no dreamy run of her hand through her hair. No smear of lipstick over the corner of her mouth, kissed away from another. 

He didn't interrupt her as she unhooked her shoes by the front door, the heels creating a mess he would later take care of. Only when she started, bare feet barely stomping against the floor, Harry piped up. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Practically jumping out of her skin, she let out an airy gasp. Her hand fluttered to the base of her throat, eyes wide as she spun on her toes. 

"H? I didn't think you'd be awake." 

Harry didn't want to get ahead of himself, but he swore he saw the tight lines on her face loosen. Her expression folded into curved lines and rounded edges. Eyes lighting as they met his. 

"Sorry," he muttered, a single dimple denting his cheek as a soft smile pulled his lips, "I didn't mean to scare you." 

"It's okay," she immediately waved off, half heartedly tossing her bag into her room before rushing towards his cocoon on the sofa, "How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?" 

"'M alright," he shared, unfolding the edges of his many blankets to allow her underneath, "It went away a little while ago. After I ate." He gave her a pointed glance, nudging her shoulder with his to pull a small smile out of her. "Thank you for that." 

She shook her head. "Of course. I felt bad leaving you, but I'm happy you're better. What have you been doing?" 

Harry felt the presence of the half melted ice cream behind him like a confession. "Nothing really. Jus' watching some movies," he smiled, adjusting his position to keep her from spotting the confection on the side table behind him, "How was your date?" 

Just like that, her expression dropped. A familiar roll of her eyes had her features pinching. 

"He was the worst, H," she shared, melting into the cocoon of blankets he offered her, laying her head back on the cushions of the couch, "The worst." 

There was a traitorous spark of joy that fluttered in his chest. What kind of friend was happy to hear that someone they cared about had a bad night? 

"What happened?" 

With an exasperated shake of her head, she started listing off on her fingers, "Didn't let me talk for more than a sentence. Ordered my food for me without asking. Told me my lipstick reminded him of his mom—but he still thought it was hot, I guess. Asked me how many people I've slept with. And, if I thought he was hotter in person or in his pictures." 

Harry blinked. His jaw fell open.

"And thats just what I can remember," (Y/N) pressed, "I'm scared more happened and I just blocked it out." 

"(Y/N)," Harry started, total awe painting his features, "I... I don't think y'should use that app anymore." 

A breathy laugh fell from her lips. "Tell me about it. I just don't get it, H. I know it's not all men, but why are all men like this?!" Her contradictory question pulled a plume of laughter from his own lungs. "Truly, I don't get it," she went on, "Is it me? Or do they all really think that the best way to get me to sleep with them is to pretend that it's already a done deal? And why do so many of them have something going on with their mom, and don't think it's weird? 

"And on top of that," she continued, raising a finger as if to make the point that much more potent, "if they even get past dinner, it's never as good as they think it'll be! Sometimes, it's fine enough, but most of the time I feel like it's such a waste of my time and I end up coming back here and taking care of myself anyway. Am I crazy or something? Like, are my standards too high?" 

When she looked at him, blinking her fluttery lashes, Harry realized she was actually asking him. 

He was quick to shake his head, attempting to get the image of her tucked away in her bedroom taking care of herself wiped from his brain. 

"'S not you," he cemented, "Definitely not. 'M sorry so many people waste your time like that—and are so disrespectful." 

She rolled in her spot, moving closer to him for comfort. "It's not fair," she pouted, exhaling with exhaustion, "I hope this isn't weird to say, but I'm bored of having to look after myself, you know? I'm putting myself out there, giving people chances, and I still end up taking myself home and finishing the job. They don't make me feel good—about myself, or otherwise. It's exhausting being my own boyfriend." 

Harry's throat ran dry.

What was he supposed to say to this? He supposed they didn't have the same boundaries they started their friendship with years ago, but he wondered if he was even really supposed to hear these things? It felt like a diary entry, not something (Y/N) shared after a date gone wrong. 

It broke his heart to hear her blaming herself. To hear so candidly how exhausted she was having to be the one that took care of her needs, to make herself feel beautiful in the ways that she needed. He hadn't been taking care of her as well as he thought he had been. 

Her words made him realize just how easily he could be dropped into that same category. The pile of selfish men who took advantage of her giving nature and pretty eyes. 

She had made him cum at her hand twice, and not once had Harry even attempted to return to favor. He wasn't much better than a man on an app, was he?

"'M sorry, (Y/N)." 

She waved him off without a second thought. "It's okay, it's not your fault—" 

"It is," he cut her off, meeting her gaze steadfast, "I haven't been good t'you, like I thought. 'M not any better than any of them." 

(Y/N) stayed quiet as she took in his words, mouth in a small gape. 

"I... I haven't been trying m'best to make y'feel good—in any way y'want. I don't take care of you like I should." He hoped so badly she could spot the points he was trying to make; that he could be those things she wanted, as long as she let him try. He'd promise to never make any comparisons to his mom at least. 

"Harry," she started cautiously, "If you mean about the stuff we've done, it's not a big deal. I offer so—" 

"But it is," he said, swallowing around the clog in his throat, "'S not fair. I... I don't know much, but I can try. I'll be—or do—anything y'want, jus' might have to teach me a little." 

She blinked at him. 

Her pretty, pretty eyes glimmered as she took in the honesty in his features. A soft pout has her lips in a gape, exhales fanning between them. Looking at her like this, cheek smushed against the back sofa, Harry wondered how anyone could see her—have the privilege of being on a date with her—and not want to hear any and everything she had to say. He would have groveled on his knees just for a chance to impress her. 

Though, a large, selfish part of him was grateful that the others before him had fumbled their chances. Even if Harry never had a real chance himself, this was going to have to be enough, he decided. These moments tucked away in the privacy of their home were going to have to be enough. 

"Are you serious?" she whispered, eyes dropping to the shape of his lips before skittering back up to match his own. 

He could only nod, his mouth bone-dry. 

She shuffled closer to him, the blankets shifting around her form. Her words were tentative, "You know you don't have to, right? I'm okay with just doing things for you." 

"I know," he murmured, "But I want you. I-It's something new, you know." 

A soft smile decorated her features. "I guess so. All about the learning experience, you are." 

"Something like that," he played along, loosening up at her light-hearted attitude. 

Her hadn't reached through the folds of the blanket cocoon to wrap around his. Her palm was soft, just as the remembered, warm and inviting. Her thumb worked a comforting circuit on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Is there something specific you wanted to try?" she broached, her foot gently brushing against his calf under the quilt. 

"Anything y'like." 

Her lips curled. "Okay," she started, beginning to stand with her grip on his hand tightening to pull him along. "I have an idea then, but only if it sounds fun to you too." 

Harry's heart bumped against his ribs. It took an immense amount of effort to keep his eyes from drifting down her body. "What is it?" 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to grow sheepish, turning away to start leading him towards her bedroom. "You've never... like, eaten anyone out before, right?" 

Was it a bit pathetic that his cock stirred at her words alone? But that was just what it was like being around (Y/N), he supposed. 

"Never," he choked out, quickening his pace to push them along to her bedroom that much faster. His skin already felt heated at even the possibility of seeing what she had under her dress. 

A breathy laugh fell from her lips as she led him into her bedroom. It was a space Harry never really breached, not unless (Y/N) expressly called him in. Maybe that was why the wall of her scent seemingly slapped him in the face, the warm, sugary fragrance intoxicating him like a whiskey neat. 

It brought him right back to the morning between his sheets, nose tucked into her hair as she slid her hand down the length of his body. A shiver ran up his spine at the memory, hand pulsing around her own. 

(Y/N) kicked her thrown bag out of the way, tipping her head to look up at him. "You can relax, you know." 

"'M fine, 'm fine," he muttered as she drew him closer to the plush mess of her bed. 

Rumpled sheets and the thrown back comforter called to him, leaving him to imagine—a bit too vividly—what she looked like when she woke up wrapped up in the silky fabrics. Her satin eye mask was thrown haphazardly over the fluffed pillows, a golden kitten face sparkling in the overhead lighting. 

Before he could move any closer, she rounded in front of him, blocking his path to the mattress. "No really," she said, gazing at him through her lashes, "We don't have to do anything. You take care of me just fine without getting me off too, H." 

He was sure she intended her words to be a passing joke, something lighthearted to ease him into the uncharted territory, but Harry felt his heart do the exact opposite. The muscles of his abdomen tightened, chest stuttering.

"I want to," he said, rushing out the words without much thought. His throat bobbed as she swallowed around the dry lump. "I just... I want it to be good for you. That's all." 

Her teasing smile turned affectionate. Reaching her free hand up to his face, she cupped Harry's cheek in her palm. The pad of her thumb skated over the soft skin under his eye. 

"You're going to do just fine, H," she crooned, tipping her head back in a way that would make it so, so easy to catch her in a kiss. "Relax and have fun, and you'll do fine." 

Relax and have fun, she said. As if he were going away to summer camp and not about to push her dress up and put his face between her legs. 

She must have caught the expression on his features as a huff of laughter fanning from her lips. Rising to her toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek. It was a familiar affection, one she had shared with him much for the last couple of weeks, but the peck felt decidedly different at the moment. It was more, he thought. Especially in the way she lingers, lips brushing the very corner of his mouth as they had earlier in the evening, when she seemed so hesitant to leave him behind for her date. 

It took every effort not to turn his head and line his lips to hers, stealing a kiss. He reminded himself: if she wanted to kiss him, she would have. 

Instead, he fluttered his eyes to a close, leaning into the flush of her touch. 

When she finally drew away, (Y/N) looked at him with her bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Without having to say a word, he would have followed her whoever she wanted him.

Which, for tonight, appears to be her sage and bubblegum colored bed. 

She fell backwards atop the plush bedding, bringing him down with her as her hand was still twined in his. He fell atop her, already breathless as he gazed down at her. 

His mouth ran dry as his eyes met hers. She was entirely too pretty, too perfect, so out of his league. What was she thinking letting him even touch her, let alone inviting him to do more? Was she going to come to his senses and realize who he was? 

Harry hoped not. 

Bringing her hands to the nape of his neck, she curled the baby strands around the tips of her fingers. "Don't look so scared, H," she laughed, eyes searching his own, "You're making me feel bad—like I'm corrupting you or something." 

He shook his head. "Sorry, that's not—I don't... Don't feel bad," he insisted, "You're jus' so pretty, (Y/N). Don't know why you're even letting me be here, with you." 

A blooming smile appeared on her mouth. "Because I trust you, remember," she said, taking him back to those moments between his sheets, when he had confessed so much to her. "And, you're pretty too, you know. Your eyelashes are so unfair." 

A sheepish grin tilted his lips. "Thanks." 

"Just relax," (Y/N) repeated, her smile warming him, "Do whatever feels right, and if I want you to do something different, I'll tell you." 

Harry swallowed, nodding his head. He supposed that was going to be the only way he was going to learn. She couldn't exactly draw him a diagram and what exactly, movement by movement that she wanted out of him. (Or at least, not in a way that wouldn't kill the mood). 

Do whatever felt right, he thought as he dropped his head to the crook of her neck. He pecked his lips against the soft skin. His nose skimmed the column of her throat as he slowly moved, deposited kisses in his wake. His confidence grew as she craned her head back, lengthening her neck and giving him more space to make his mark. 

Though he wasn't planning on being quite as crude (not tonight, anyway), he tried to think of the videos he'd seen or the pages in books he's read. When he'd imagined himself in a moment like this, what had he craved to do? 

A light scrape of his teeth against the sensitive skin was the first in an experimental move. A soft sigh left (Y/N)'s lungs, goosebumps raising around his kiss. Spurred on by her reaction, Harry attempted a small bite to the same space. It was a nibble, barely holding onto the skin for more than a second before he released her to soothe with a lingering kiss. 

Her legs around his hips moved to close around him, caging him right where he was. A good sign, he decided. 

He gained confidence, letting his mouth linger on her throat, the kisses long and leaving small marks or glistening prints behind. A part of him was waiting for (Y/N) to correct him, tell him to do more, or do less. She never did, only holding the baby curls on the back of his neck and giving him the prettiest sounds. 

Even when he dared to dip his head lower and approach the neckline of her dress. The swells of her breasts heaved as she took in lingering breaths. Harry dared to peek up at her through his lashes as he kissed down to the top of her dress, the scalloped edge tickling his chin. He swore he could feel the beat of her heart rattling underneath her sternum.

(Y/N) laid with her eyes closed, lips parted. She looked entirely at peace as he kissed her body, micro twitches of her lips, the soft flutter of her already closed eyes, being the only giveaways to the fact that she was just as present in this moment as he was. 

A slight scrape of his teeth over the top of her breast had goosebumps reaching over her décolletage. A slight shift of her hips occurred underneath his own.

"H?" she breathed, feeling her chest move under his mouth as much as he heard the call of his name. 

"Hm?" he hummed, soothing the soft nip with a kiss of his saliva-slicked lips. 

"Um," she started, finding her voice, "Are you... Do you want to do more? Or just this?" 

"More," he answered automatically, "Yeah, more."

 Her smile was dreamy this time as he raised her head to look at him. "Okay," she started, a bit breathless compared to just moments before, "Are you alright with being on your knees? Or do you want me to move?" 

Harry didn't have to think before he was shaking his head. She wasn't adjusting a single part of herself, unless it was for her comfort or it fit her wants. Otherwise, he planned on taking on everything. If she wanted him on his knees, then that was what he was going to do. 

"'M alright," he said, already sinking to rest on his knees before her. 

Her thighs hesitantly unlocked from around his hips, letting him rest with the cuffs of his knees on the fluffy rug underneath her bed. The hem of her dress dangled before him, temptingly innocent with that same scalloped edging that had just grazed his chin. 

(Y/N) shifted where she laid. Her legs spread wide enough to allow him between, tightening the material of her dress around her thighs. Scooting closer to the edge, her hips were just barely situated amongst the bedding, the apex of her thighs just that much closer to his face. Harry grew incredibly antsy where he sat, hands restless in his lap and bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

She moved so comfortably, reaching for him as if he wasn't one of the most monumental moments of his life. 

"Okay?" she asked, craning her neck to look down at him. 

Harry jerked his head in a nod, decidedly a bit too frantic to match the nonchalant air of her. Though, (Y/N) only laughed, affection twined within the sound. 

"Um," he started, feeling his cheeks heat, "How do y'want me to start?" 

Laying back, she ran her fingers through his hair. "However you want. I'm ready whenever you are—really ready." 

Not allowing himself to process the implication of her words lest she completely burst into flames, Harry braced himself as he placed his hands gently on her knees. Absently, her legs parted that much more, leaving more room for him to make his home. 

"Okay," he shakily answered. 

It was easier said than done to just relax and have fun like she wanted him to. Instinctively, he wanted to pick apart every action, every touch, every breath. But, Harry knew he couldn't do that. If there was one thing—other than his lack of experience, of course—that would make this not pleasurable for (Y/N), it would be any hesitation or fear he had bleeding into his treatment of her.

Even if he wasn't sure of himself, he was going to have to pretend for the time being. He had to trust that if something wasn't right, (Y/N) would tell him and give him the chance to fix it. 

He muttered a quiet Okay to himself before sliding his hands over the cuffs of her knees. Her skin was soft under his palms, every bump, mark and scar that made up her story glided under his touch. Reaching the hem of her dress, he held his breath as he slid his fingertips under the material. 

Carefully, Harry pushed her dress up. As more and more of her skin was revealed, he could feel his own begin to heat. The warmth crawled up his throat the same way his hands moved up to the plush of her thighs. When his thumb grazed the soft inside of her thigh, he released the breath he'd been holding. The air fanned across her skin, drawing a layer of goosebumps to rise over her thighs.

Harry could hear her breathing stutter, the reaction spurring him on. 

Pulling her dress up until his fingertips met the edge of her underwear, Harry paused. 

"Um," he started, suddenly breathless compared to just moments before, "Tell me if you want me to stop." 

Her hands coasted through his hair, affectionate and warm even when she pulled him that much closer. "Okay, just... hurry." 

It wasn't a command, harsh and unforgiving, but Harry acted as if she gave him no choice. Hearing that small, breathy plea was enough to have him working quickly. Any and everything she wanted, she was going to get. Even if Harry did it with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks. 

 As per her request, he surged on. Taking the plunge and pushing her dress up the rest of the way, he left the material to pool at her waist, revealing her panties. They weren't lacy and extravagant, full of glittering thread or intricate beading. It was only a simple pair, covering her modesty in pink-dyed cotton, a red rosette stitched at the center of the waist. 

Nonetheless, the sight took Harry's breath away. No wonder there were people in the world addicted to this act. 

His hands shook as he set them on the bones of her hips. He knew she wanted him to hurry, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to move on from this. Not when he could see the fabric of her underwear clinging to the shape of her core underneath. The folds and lines of her pussy were clear, a small dot of wetness had collected on the gusset, darkening the material to a mauve tone. Just like the blush on her cheeks. 

He curled his fingers into the waist of her underwear, but didn't make any move to pull them down. He moved instinctively, dropping a kiss to the joint of her knee. He didn't linger there long, dragging his lips over her skin. He explored the expanse of her thighs though he kept his gaze trained on her core through the fan of his lashes. The very tip of his nose skimmed over her skin with peeks of his tongue appearing to connect the trail of his kisses the higher he moved up her leg. 

Harry stopped when he reached the leg of her panties, hesitating for only a moment before he surged forward and pressed his lips to the middle of her underwear. Her legs on either side of him tensed and made a move to close, turning him into a wedge between them. He could feel the outline of her beneath his kiss, complete with the bud of her clit pressing into his nose. 

(Y/N) let out an audible beneath at the touch. It was shaking and delicate, just barely loud enough for him to catch, but enough to let him know he was doing something right. 

The single peck he gave turned into a string of open-mouthed kisses, giving into his own desire to earn more of her essence. It was a teasing game, he thought, a game he was playing against himself. His cock stirred in his lap, a pinch appearing between his brows the more he forced himself to restrain. 

The material of her underwear was growing sodden from his affection, something that only furthered when he placed the flat of his tongue against her and gave a lingering lick. Despite being through her underwear, it was still enough to get a taste of her on his buds. 

"Harry," she breathed, voice watery, "I need more, please." 

Hearing the sound of his name wrapped up in her voice, spoken on her breathless tongue, was more than any fantasy could ever hope to be. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head as he gave a punishing kiss to the bump of her clit. He lingered for only a moment, attempting to crew his head on straight before drawing away.

"Okay, okay," he started, "I can do that, love." 

She spread her legs in response, fingers tightening in his hair. 

He didn't think before he pulled her underwear down. (Y/N) assisted as she lifted her hips and angled her legs to help him pull them down. Once she settled again, she pulled her legs apart without a care. As if Harry wasn't witnessing the most beautiful thing he could imagine ever existing. 

Before him, she was laid bare. Her folds were glistening, parted just enough to show her pulsing opening. The bud of her clit was puffy at the top of her pussy, just where he could imagine his nose going when he dug his tongue inside her hole. Just like the rest of her, she was too pretty, too alluring. 

It was the tug on his hair that reminded him of the real world going on around him. "H," was her quiet whine. 

"I know, sorry," he breathed, shuffling on his knees towards her, his neck craning to be level with her core, "Jus'... You're perfect, (Y/N)." 

He could hear the quiet smile in her voice as she spoke, "Thanks, honey." 

It was enough to have his own puffy lips growing into a lopsided grin, a single dimple on his cheek. Honey. How sweet was she?

Mimicking his actions from before, he pressed his lips to the top of her slit. His chin pressed lightly into her seeping wetness, warm and sticky against his skin. A breathless sigh left her lungs in gentle relief. 

Shuffling on his knees, he hooked his hands around her hips. Instead of drawing away and giving himself a chance to become distracted by her once more, Harry dragged his mouth down the length of her. His breath fanned across her slick skin as he pressed his lips directly to her clit. It was a gentle kiss, though he didn't pull away when her legs tensed around him, thighs moving to attempt to wrap around his head. 

"Right there, hold on," she breathed, her first direction. 

Harry did as she requested, turning his single peck into a string of soft pulling kisses. Parting his mouth just enough, he fit her bud between his lips. He delivered a gentle suck to the pearl, getting his first real taste of her wetness on his tongue. Everything was heady and warm, a previously undiscovered delicacy. He could see himself sitting right where he was for hours on end, attempting to learn every intricacy of her taste. 

Laving his tongue over her clit seemed to be just enough for (Y/N) to peel more noises from her. She tensed against his touch, her opening pulsing against the point of his chin, muscles bunching in her abdomen. A quiet whine dripped from her throat. 

"Fuck, H," she whimpered, filling her messy room with something so pretty as her whining for him. "I-I—More, please. Inside, inside." 

 It was a treat alone to get to taste her, but nothing was like the whipped cream, and cherry on top that was her begging him for more, broken sentences stringing together.

Following along, he drifted away from her clit and dragged his tongue through her parted lips. Her slick collected on his tongue, washing over him and down his throat. It was his turn to let out a rumbling groan. His own pleasure bundled in his middle, urging his muscles to tense and bunch with his cock rising to the occasion. 

But this was all about (Y/N), as far as he was concerned. She was going to come first—in both ways.

He took his time to taste her. He felt the pulses of her opening urging him to do as she requested and plunge his tongue inside, but he wanted a selfish moment to get every taste of her he could. More and more slick seeped out of her as he cleaned her, matching the stuttering of her breathing and the trickling stream of quiet moans she let out above him. 

With his chin wet and nose pressed to her clit, Harry dipped lower on her pussy until his mouth was level with her hole. The tip of his tongue danced around the shuddering entrance, (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair, the roots beginning to burn just enough under her grip. 

"H," she cried, a pleading note to her voice. 

He knew what she needed, and he wasn't planning on making her work hard for her pleasure. 

With that, he pressed his tongue inside her. Her walls shuttered and pulsed around him, sucking him inside. He could feel the ridges of her as he writhed his tongue inside, feeling the spongey give just beside her opening. (Y/N) let out a shuddering sigh. 

Harry pressed his face harshly against her, eager to taste more and more of her. His breathing came out heavily, fanning over her glistening skin and pearling bud. Slick noise filled the room as he began making tentative strokes of his tongue through her, pulling back just enough before plunging through once more. 

"Oh my god, Harry," she breathed, plush thighs becoming earmuffs around his head. She pulled his head towards her core with her grip on his hair, nose scrunching against her clit. "Y-You—You're so good, so good." 

If not for his busy mouth, Harry was sure a prideful grin would have decorated his face. But he was much too engrossed in tasting her praise. He could feel the sticky wetness dripping over his chin, beginning to river down his jaw. 

Focusing on the movements of his tongue in hopes of drawing more praise of her, Harry barely noticed the way the grip on his hair changed. (Y/N), with her renewed leverage, moved his head against her, wagging his chin over her slick. She shook his head against her core, a grumbling moan leaving his throat as he felt her walls pulsing around his tongue, her clit throb against the tip of his nose. 

A string of curses fell from (Y/N)'s lips, her plush thighs tight around his head. He could feel her toes curling around his back as she hooked her ankles underneath his shoulder blades. A broken whine croaked from her throat. 

"Harry, I-I'm sorry, I think I'm gonna cum," she bubbled, apparently delusional if she thought she needed to apologize.

Unwilling to pull away from her, he could do nothing other than commit to tasting her to show her that he didn't mind. He wanted to feel her pleasure wash over him, to taste every bit of her release. She had quit her pulling of his hair, her bones going lax, leaving Harry to take over what he was learning she liked. 

He wagged his head against her core, digging his tongue inside her. Shifting his hand over her wriggling hip, he dared to meet the pad of his thumb to her budding clit. She practically jumped out of her skin, her insides snug around his tongue. 

Despite the slight tremor to his hands, he circled his thumb around her clit. There was so much to keep track of, so much he wanted to make sure was perfect and worth it for her. But, he knew everything was a bit messy, a bit off-kilter, not the pristine experience he wanted to give her. Though (Y/N) didn't seem to mind; she appeared to like the messy, clumsy way he was eager to get her off. Even if that meant she was going to end the night with puffy lips and slick thighs. 

"H, honey," she cried, a crackle entering the syllables of the pet name, "I-I'm gonna—" 

He nodded his head against her. Do it, please. I want to taste, please, please, please. 

As if she could hear his thoughts, it took only another circuit of his thumb over her clit and a plunge of his tongue through her pussy that he felt everything tighten. 

Every muscle in her bunched and warmed while her bones went loose. She came around his tongue with her legs wrapping around his head, trapping him just where he wanted to be. He writhed his tongue inside of her, working her through the pulsing, shaking orgasm he was lucky enough to serve to her. 

Every moan and bubble of his name was a fire to Harry's blood, warming him from the inside out. His cock was full and hard in his lap, aching to feel what it would be like to truly be inside her. Despite the distracting fantasy, he stitched his attention solely on her, working her through the pleasure. 

Harry could have sat there on his knees for hours, helping her come down, but eventually, (Y/N) appeared to start floating back down to earth. Her thighs around his head loosened first, her toes uncurling. She cringed away from him once the feel of him was too much, her nerves too sensitive to allow him to keep going. 

The grip she had used on his hair that kept him pinned to her now became the force pushing him away. It took a bit of effort before Harry realized she was wanting him to stop, too caught up in the taste, and feel, and absolute wonder at knowing that he had this effect on her. 

Pulling his head away, Harry looked up at her with swollen, slick lips. From where he sat on his knees, he was granted an angle of her face. He saw her puffy lips parted, slight marks within the pillow of the bottom one where her teeth had sunk in. He swore her skin held a new radiance—the kind he'd never seen on her before, but wouldn't be able to get out of his head for a while. Or ever, really. 

All at once, a wave of something overwhelming washed over him. Here he sat, with the taste of her on his tongue, his heart beating wildly in his chest and skin warm. All while his dream girl sat above him, fanning lashes and pretty lip gloss on her mouth. He didn't have to check to know that her own heart was hammering in her chest. He could feel the heat pouring off of her skin already. She had his mark, however faint and fading, on her neck. 

This was (Y/N). And she was here, with him. She had a beating heart, and stilted lungs. He had a working list of all the things he loved about her, but it all boiled down to the brain in her head and her heart in her chest. The idea that she had thought about him at all, let alone enough to be here with him tonight when there was a world outside waiting for her, had a different kind of bliss blooming inside him.

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. 

Rising on shaky legs (it appeared the fluffy rug wasn't enough to cushion his knees like he thought), Harry moved on autopilot as he fell atop her. Instead of kissing down her neck, his lips met her cheek. His arms wrapped around her middle, her dress shifting down her waist to make room for the cage of his forearms. 

(Y/N) didn't hesitate before she looped her arms around his neck. 

"H," she crooned, energy depleted, "That was—You're... perfect." 

It was breathless the way she spoke. In Harry's heart, he wanted to believe it was from the same awe that he felt. 

"You," he countered, refusing to draw too far from her skin, "You're perfect, (Y/N). You're... everything." 

It was cheesy and cliche, but his overwhelmed brain couldn't think of anything better. She was everything. She was every bright morning made for easy breakfast, and chilled night made for cuddling. She was the fulfilling nights spent under blankets with only the most comforting movie on the television. She was the best dinner money could buy. She was the feeling of a sweet animal choosing you as its person. She was a rainy afternoon with a new favorite book. She was everything. 

Everything led back to her. 

It was (Y/N) that had paused for a moment before turning her head just enough to match her lips to his. He all but melted into her. 

A moment he had been waiting for. He'd missed kissing her as if he'd been doing it his whole life. Oxygen didn't sound appealing when there was the option of pressing his mouth to hers. Slotting his lips to hers felt like second nature, allowing a soft taste of her mouth, uncaring of the lipstick painted over her pout.

Lips smearing against one another, Harry felt his brows pinch. While it wasn't his ecstasy that had filled the room, the high tension from wanting, aching to give her pleasure was beginning to crash down on him. His arms around her waist tightened, his hands cupping the curve of her waist with denting fingers. 

How was he to go on after this? This night was a turning page, spurring him on before he could have a second thought. 

"I'd do anything for you," he murmured, blurting out his thoughts without hesitation. He didn't even lift his lips from her own, his affections wafting over her mouth. "Not-Not jus' this—I'd do anything for you, (Y/N)." 

"I know, H," (Y/N) smiled, smoothing his hair back, "You're the best friend I—" 

"No," he cut her off, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead on her own. He didn't dare open his eyes, lest the courage bubbling behind his ribs be doused. "'S more than that," he confessed, breathless, "I... I care about you s'much. I want to make y'happy, and I don't want y'to have to use your apps anymore. I... I can do the hard work for you—y'don't have to be on your own." 

He clung to her the way he clung to the hope that she was understanding what he was saying. That she was on the same page. Or even reading the same book as him. 

It was (Y/N) that made the move to draw away from him, even when he chased after her mouth. She stopped him with a hand cupping his cheek. 

Her eyes were downturned, lips parted and swollen. "You care about me?" 

He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do at the moment, but Harry couldn't stop himself before the words tumbled out of him: "I love you." 

Her expression softened before his eyes. Something melted swam in her eyes, swirling and glistening. Her skin was warm, plump with simmering blood. Just barely, he caught the very edge of her mouth up turning into a small smile. 

"You love me?" 

"More than anything." 

She tugged him down for another kiss. It was messy and clumsy, off center, but still incredibly perfect. 

"I thought you just like being friends with me," she laughed against his kiss, "I didn't want to freak you out in case you just... you know. Oh my god, you love me." 

"I love you," he repeated, unsure of how she could ever have a doubt over his feelings but determined to wipe them away. "Love being friends with you, but it would be kind of nice to be more." 

Another laugh, this one giddy came from (Y/N). "It would be really nice, huh. Oh, H, I love you too." 

His heart soared, taking over the space at the base of his throat. If he thought he was overwhelmed before, that was nothing compared to the swirling mass of everything brewing inside him. 

She loved him. She loved him like he loved her. 

Harry could only kiss her, could only hug her tight. (Y/N) clung to him just as tightly. 

He could have laid atop her for hours on end, kissing her and keeping her snug against his heart—right where she belonged. But, (Y/N) once again had the clearer brain.

She nudged her nose against his, knocking him to smear his lips over her cheek instead. 

"Do you think we could have a sleepover again tonight?" 

It was his turn to let out a bubbling laugh. As if he was planning on leaving her to sleep by herself tonight. 

"Anything y'want, love." 

—————

strawberries represent perfection; the sweetest at the end of june

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please sned n any fun ideas you have!

[sashiavi]

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this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

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♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴾʳᶦˢᵒⁿᵉʳᵎ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ | ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷᵃˡˡ | ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐᶦᶜˢ | ᵈᵒᵐ/ˢᵘᵇ | ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ʷʳᶦᵒ ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³.⁵ᵏ

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃ��ⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly. 

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences. 

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him. 

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks. 

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that. 

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers. 

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric. 

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything. 

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling. 

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers. 

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress. 

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line. 

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore. 

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein. 

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock. 

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice. 

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt. 

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides. 

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you. 

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over. 

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs. 

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Do Not Translate Or Repost - Property Of SashiAvi ♡

[fuctacles]

The first one of many

for @stevieweek Day 4: Special Outfit + first dress + fantasy and for @steddiemicrofic "one" G | 1111 | no cw | ren-faire, pre-relationship, transfem Stevie, smitten Eddie | Ao3 Stevie Week: Day 1 | Day 2 (art) | Day 3 (art) | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

"Do you like this one?"

Eddie appears by her side so abruptly, she jumps out of her skin. He smiles apologetically.

"Sorry," he says, but doesn't let himself be distracted. He reaches out to touch the sleeve of the dress Stevie's been eyeing.

It's yellow and white, with a floral pattern and a square neckline. The sleeves are slightly puffy, and the corset can be laced on the front for adjustment. It's one of the flashier ones at the stall, but Eddie wouldn't expect anything less from the girl standing next to him.

He's still surprised she agreed to come with them, to for a few days taste and touch the world her friends love so much. She told him earlier, that she liked everyone's costumes, but it's the first time anything has captured her attention like this.

"Do you want to try it on?" he asks.

"No, that's okay." She shakes her head immediately, but he won't be having it.

"Come on, we're here to have fun, all of us. And if trying on dresses is fun for you, then let's do it!" he encourages her, putting his infectious enthusiasm into the words.

She's still hesitant, but he can tell the garment in front of them is like a siren's call.

"I don't know..."

Dustin bumps into them while eyeing some of the leatherwork displayed nearby, and Eddie holds his breath, hoping it's one of these times his lack of filter is helpful. The boy looks at his friends and the garment they're facing.

"You guys buying a dress?"

"No," says Stevie.

"Maybe," says Eddie.

Dustin studies the dress with his judgmental eyes, gaze darting from it to Stevie and back again.

"You should at least try it. It's your color," he says, before walking away.

Eddie turns to his friend triumphantly.

"Well?" he grins. He can see in her eyes that she wants to but is having a hard time admitting it.

"I guess?" she says eventually. "I mean, it's just for fun, right?"

"Of course!" Eddie quickly flags down the seller, before she can change her mind. "Excuse me, good sir! Is there somewhere we can try it on?"

Which ends up with them ushered to the back of the stall, with instructions on how to operate all of the dress's clasps and lacings.

"I'll wait here. Tell me if you need any help," Eddie says before pushing his friend behind the partition, dress in her hand.

He can hear the rustle of fabric behind the heavy curtain, Stevie's clothes dropping heavily to the grass beneath while he's doing his best not to think about her undressing. She's cursing and huffing while pulling on the new dress and it helps to quell his nasty thoughts a bit. And then everything goes silent.

"Stevie?" He frowns. "You alright there?"

"Yeah," she answers, but it's so tiny he can barely hear it.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh-huh."

He pushes the edge of the green fabric aside and slips inside the little alcove. In the tight space, Stevie is staring in a full-body mirror, hands smoothing down her hips, pulling her hair forward, pushing up her breasts.

Eddie finds himself enchanted by her, not for the first time.

"You look beautiful," he says.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Though, your corset lacing needs some practice." She huffs at that. "Can I?"

The way she turns to face him, full of trust, makes his heart melt and slide down his ribs.

Delicately and trying not to touch her chest, like a true gentleman, he unlaces the corset to tighten it at the waist. Her gasp makes him bite his lip painfully.

"Sorry."

"No, it's fine. You can go a bit tighter."

They work together until her waist and hips make a beautiful curve, and her tiny breasts are pushed up in a flattering way. She seems to be especially fixated on them, on the bit of skin peeking out from the low neckline.

Eddie can share that sentiment.

"Thank you," she whispers once she's facing the mirror again, fingers tracing the newfound shape of her body.

"There's nothing to thank me for, you're just naturally beautiful." Eddie smiles, reaching out to tug her hair forward again, so it falls against the bare skin of her collarbones. The sight makes his mouth go dry so he decides to move his thoughts elsewhere. "I think it's the first time I've seen you in a dress."

Stevie hums.

"That's because I don't have one."

"Huh?"

"I've tried on Nancy's or my mother's, but I don't have one of my own," she clarifies with a shrug.

"That's unthinkable," Eddie declares. "We're getting it." The thought that her first dress could be a nerdy, ren-faire one, makes his stomach flip.

"It's too expensive." She shakes her head, but he can see she's sad about it. "I can get a dress at the mall for a third of this price."

Eddie nods along.

"Yes, you could get a cheap, boring rat mall dress," he agrees. "Or you could buy one of a kind, handmade with passion and care, worthy of a princess."

Watching her cheeks flush is worth the risk of exposing his feelings.

"Where would I even wear it?" she keeps digging her heels in the ground. And, while she has a point...

"Here, for starters. And any other ren-faire I'll take you to just so I can show off how pretty you are."

With the way she looks up at him, she might already know.

He just hopes he has enough money. He pulls out his wallet and Stevie frowns.

"You're not getting it for me."

"Oh, I am." He hopes he is, at least. In a rush of bravery, he smiles to add, "Consider it my first courting gift," and leaves before she can protest.

When he's counting his money and wonders who he can beg for a loan, Dustin approaches him with a wad of cash.

"I saw the price earlier and figured you guys could need it." He smiles with that self-satisfied smirk of his, but for once, Eddie doesn't mind.

He hands the money to the merchant and runs back to Stevie.

"Hey, does it count as a courting gift if the twerps pitched in?" he asks through the partition and is promptly pulled inside.

"Are you serious about the courting?" Stevie asks, with her face so close to Eddie's, he has trouble processing her words.

"Deadly," he whispers, hoping they're on the same page.

"Is there, like, a nerdy ritual I have to follow for it?" she asks.

"Uh, a kiss would be nice," he says. Pleads.

She smiles and leans in.

[justblades]

⌕ INSATIABLE HUNGER, 18+

⟢ DAY 2 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — where in they basically use you to please themselves

⟢ CHARACTERS : gepard, welt & jing yuan x gender neutral! reader

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. not proofread.

GEPARD LANDAU

being a silvermane captain is a role not everyone can live up to - to be rid of greed, irrationality and trivial feelings is a masterpiece in its own that gepard landau undoubtedly attained. he always lives up to his name, a solid foundation the belobog citizens can rely on.

naturally, it gets tiring having to be resilient at all times. although he may not act like it's eating his resolve bit by bit the more his stress and fatigue piled up, he heard an unsolicited advice from one of his men. the advice wasn't aimed at him, it was just a conversation he accidentally eavesdropped in. they were two regular soldiers resting for a moment, blabbering about the most nonsensical things.

"have you heard? there's numerous glory holes at the bar recently built in the deepest alley of the administrative district!" one says and the other cackles, "glory holes? like where you put it in and get stimulated in return?" those sentences are all gepard could remember. he attempted his best at being undercover and not give away his identity as he slowly descends further into the back alley.

he thought it was something absurd, not until the blond slips his dick into the hole - his very own girth being encompassed with tightening walls. gepard's breathing becomes jagged, his strong hands tightly clasped on the wall separating him and the incognito glory hole. his brows furrow once he feels the 'glory hole' move, pushing in and out of his dick, already making such sloppy noises.

flushed pink tint brushes from ear to ear the longer he was pleasured in this eccentric setup. the male profusely sweats as climaxing feelings rush onto the throbbing crown of his dick. unintentionally, "i-i'm so . . clo—" slips out of gepard's lush lips and only felt his flames of desire fueled the moment he got to hear the person from the other side answer, "go ahead, cum inside me." the approval seals the deal, he bucks his hips forward with such a powerful thrust, filling your hole with his shape and seed. it was immensely gratifying to be filled up - you couldn't help but chime in, "come again soon . ." gepard only fixes his clothing, still embarrassed having to resort to this but he was already reconsidering.

WELT YANG

the old man happened to be roped in a series of bizarre situations, a scenario he must play along with in order to unravel the secrets of a particular world the astral express happened to stop by. unfortunately, the person welt must scrutinize was someone lecherous, reaching to the point where he pulled the old man to a particular bathroom stall which granted him a face painted of confusion from the brunet's features.

his wrinkles become more prominent at how his brows knit, "what are we to do exactly here, mister?" welt's voice pierces through the thick tension sitting in the air, fixing his black rimmed glasses with his index. "see that partition over there, mr. yang? go there and you'll know what's next." the person replies with a shit eating grin at the end. welt heaves a deep, blue sigh - following suit, just to play along.

not until a particular sight graces his vision, tongue sticking out of a hole, waiting for a visitor to lap in. he looks back and could see that he was still being watched, there is no other choice. with a swift movement, he brings all of his clothing down and slightly tap his erection on the surface, the saliva meeting with his cock's veins was warm, tracing goosebumps all over his skin.

how long has it been exactly? he didn't want to think of that and only spiraled further into pleasure to the point that he rocks his pelvis along with the glory hole's motions, his tip, cock's body and balls being smothered with edible lubricant and saliva all at the same. as the person from the other side of the wall continues to stimulate the old man, more guttural moans bubble from his throat.

"a glory hole . . the name might be misleading for new people . ." the brunet says, accompanied with sloppy noises echoing inside the stall. a question crosses your mind in the midst of the slick blow job you're giving, curious about the male's age as his husky voice and breathy sounded a lower timbre. however, no matter the age— he tasted rather perfect. his cum spills into your throat, a balanced taste of sweet and sour explodes like firecrackers in your tastebuds.

JING YUAN

everyone has secrets, even the luofu general jing yuan himself. whenever he's not on duty which happened a little too frequently— he'd find himself rousing such a lustful act in his own abode. a personal toy he calls whenever he's bored, horny or downright stressed. among those three circumstances, he yearns for his glory hole.

you had no idea you'd be the general's property— after all, it was a shady job offer at the beginning. but what kept your sanity at bay however is the fact that your identity is kept hidden; the payment was more than decent, it estimates up to six digits. it's a job you're happy to have but in contrary, not to boast to narrow minded people.

as you're summoned again by the silver haired, you carefully bend over and made sure the hole is adjacent to your entrance. with one smooth thrust, your hole was intruded by the familiar one, no other than jing yuan's. you clap a hand at your mouth from how a moan tried to escape out, but the more the sex prolonged, the more inevitable it was for you.

jing yuan huffs and exerts more power to his cock, basically jackhammering into your walls. he was long, thick and hot, from one stroke along he had you whimpering under his power, moreso follows are feelings of admiration for the general. "you're not permitted to speak, i know." his abrupt sentence catches you rather off guard.

"but you can let those moans out once in a while . ." the male proclaims, proceeding to quicken his pace with intentions of garnering more lewd sounds coming out of your mouth. you willfully oblige and let it all out, your noises of arousal and satisfaction chime into jing yuan's ears as if you were playing a sweet, melodic tune. "very good." he says, immediately feeling like cumming despite the session starting just five minutes in.

my masterlist !

[justacynicalromantic]

In early 2014, Ukraine was a neutral country, with a pro-Russian president, and with 70% of Ukraine's population against NATO membership. Yet Russia bluntly violated Ukraine's neutrality and annexed Crimea, then launched a covert invasion of Ukraine in the east.

Petro Poroshenko won the presidential election later in 2014 having promised a settlement with Russia, keeping a special status of the Russian language in Ukraine. He was initially sceptical regarding NATO accession, underlined Ukraine must rely on its own strength to provide security.

Did Putin meet Poroshenko halfway? Not at all. The regular Russian army entered the Ukrainian territory in mid-2014 to fight the Ukrainian troops, which led to the Minsk-1 agreement signed in September 2014.

Further text - down under the cut, or you can follow the Twitter link to the original post:

Few weeks later, Ukraine's parliament adopted a law that would guarantee the then Russia-controlled part of Donetsk and Luhansk regions additional economic, financial and cultural powers.

How did Putin react? Russia staged sham local elections in the occupied Donbas, and then sent the regular army again to Ukraine in early 2015, which led to the Minsk-2 agreement signed in February 2015.

Zelensky was even more sceptical regarding NATO accession. Asked about NATO, he once famously said he never pays anyone a visit if he has not been invited. He won the presidential election promising to compromise with Russia - to stop shooting, sit down with Putin and talk.

Did Putin meet Zelensky halfway? Not at all. He actually raised the stakes by issuing the Russian passports on the occupied territories of Ukraine even before Zelensky assumed the office, putting him in a difficult political position since the start.

Zelensky was ready to drop Ukraine's NATO bid in an exchange for the Russian troops withdrawing from Ukraine. The talks were held already before 2022. What did Putin do? He launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

In the first weeks of the invasion, Zelensky was yet again ready to drop Ukraine's NATO bid. But he wanted to obtain international security guarantees. What did Putin do? He demanded that Russia must be consulted before any aid would be given to Ukraine in the event of aggression.

To sum up, Ukraine has consistently tried to reach a deal with Russia over the last decade, and was open to giving up on its NATO bid in exchange for the withdrawal of the Russian troops from Ukraine. Russia never reciprocated, never showed a good will, kept raising the stakes.

Both Poroshenko and Zelensky were initially sceptical regarding Ukraine's accession to NATO. Both wanted to get a deal with Putin. And Putin himself pushed both of them to seek NATO membership out of no other viable alternatives.

Up till now, Putin has shown absolutely no willingness to compromise with Ukraine. His war aims remain maximalist - subjugating Ukraine and changing its regime. He seeks Ukraine's partition, and will turn what is left of Ukraine into Russian protectorate.

Russia's imperial self-conception is that of Russian elites at large, and not just Vladimir Putin. The Russian leadership simply cannot reconcile with the existence of a sovereign Ukrainian statehood.

Therefore any sustainable Ukrainian-Russian compromise is currently not possible unless the Russian cost-benefit calculus changes. Only credible risk to the stability of the Russian regime would impact this calculus. The easiest way goes through defeating Russia in Ukraine.

[ronearoundblindly]

E for Steve? More specifically hideout Steve???? 🥺🥺

For this ask game and for this touch-starved!Steve series.

MINORS DNI. Hooooooo, Nessie, this got me all bothered.

E - Extra Info

Mini-rant time:

I've come across a couple of comments describing Nomad in this story as "subby," which I have to say, I consider wildly untrue.

He's hyper-sensitive, that's for sure, and he's inexperienced, yes. Being starved for touch doesn't automatically make you submissive, though. In my opinion, that only makes Steve more responsive during intimacy and sex.

We know--or we should know--that real doms are getting pleasure and satisfaction from the pleasure of their partner while exercising the most control over the 'scene' between the two (or more) partners.

That and Hideout!Steve are the same picture to me. At least, I'm not saying he's a dom-Dom, like a practicing and negotiated dominant, but he ain't being submissive, folks, as far as I'm concerned. He's learning, he's exploring, and he's coming into his own. That's all.

Mini-rant over! (No one is wrong in their interpretation of him, by the way. I just wanted to explain the headspace I am writing him from.)

He likes skin-to-skin contact. He doesn't care if things get messy. He has no issue with bodily fluids or functions. If you tell him to do something or want to try something, he's game.

He loves to pamper you with soothing back and foot rubs, but he doesn't fetishize any part of that except your pleased (or aroused) facial expressions (and soft noises of contentment).

What else...

The breath play. Oh boy! Probably not as scandalous as you think it might be, but he smothers his sounds in the pillows and tries to be super quiet long enough that Steve is somewhat reliant on limited oxygen before he comes. Of course, he never articulates that, so you found out very slowly and almost by accident.

Since he's so sensitive already, there isn't enough time to distinguish that anything specific might work him up to climax more/faster, but as he gains endurance, he starts to bury his face in your skin (chest, shoulder, or cunt) and remain cut off from air until his end.

Once, when he's holding you up, no support of a wall or anything behind you, and really going at it, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms behind his neck, you're both so sweaty that you slip.

What happens is your one hand catches the back of his neck and the other just latches onto his throat because he is frantically thrusting up into you with his grip spreading your ass. Normally, he'd have one hand to stabilize your back, but instead, he groans something fierce, and all you can do is hold on.

That, my friends, is when you hear Steve Rogers growl 'fuck' loudly for the first time. You'd've apologized if he didn't kiss you so sloppily and sooooo greedily afterward. Let's just say that was a good hint that he might enjoy just a little choking...

🫠🫡

Hmm, and I suppose I should mention that the gif above was chosen because eventually when Steve can be more open with you, we find out he does have a bit of a thing for wearing the uniform during sex. Not all the time, but that holds a special meaning because for just a moment, his work-life and his private-life aren't partitioned away from each other.

Kinda. He's still a fugitive.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[rosemary-morgan]

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Arthur is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Warning: 18+!! smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, fingering, spanking, oral sex (f and m receiving), cum play, language

Hello, my pretty and wonderful little bees out there 🧡🐝 I have some filth for you. And… oh boy, it's just pure filth. I think this is by far the naughtiest thing I have written so far (❁´◡`❁)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🥰 The summary was her idea

Summary: You and Arthur take a little time out to enjoy your love to the fullest. And in Saint Denis, a very special gift awaits Arthur - a special something that you know he will love

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

You are both laughing as you arrive back at your hotel room. The night in Saint Denis had been wonderful and you hadn't had such a good time in a long time. Going to the theater tonight had been a great idea of Arthur's and you had enjoyed every minute of it. 

The door closes behind you and at that moment Arthur hugs you from behind and you sigh contentedly, closing your eyes and leaning against his strong chest.

"Thank you, for this wonderful evening, Arthur," you whisper,chuckling softly as he kisses the small spot behind your ear.

His lips move tenderly over your skin, kissing your neck sensually, for Arthur knew exactly how sensitive you were in that spot. Instantly you moan softly, biting your lower lip and enjoying how tender he is. His strong hands slowly slide over your hips, stroking the beautiful dark green dress that you're wearing.

"You look lovely tonight, Y/N..."

Playfully he bites your earlobe and you can hear him laughing softly in the next moment, deeply arousing you. His deep voice had an immediate effect on your body and you felt it instantly. You could already feel a tingle between your pretty thighs and this feeling was strengthened even more when his hands grip your breasts and squeeze them with pleasure.

"Arthur..."

"Mmm... you smell so good, Y/N..."

Gasping softly, he says this as his lips glide over your neck. His right hand slid from your chest down to your thigh and he slowly gathered up the long skirt of your dress so he could touch your tender skin that was hiding underneath. Oh, Arthur already saw himself lying between your pretty legs. 

"Arthur, my love, I have a surprise for you," you whisper as Arthur continues to kiss you unflinchingly, making you moan as he kisses just the right spot on your shoulder.

You smile, pulling away from his tender kisses for the moment. Questioning, but with a teasing smile, Arthur looks at you as he takes your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. His look was full of love and full of desire.

"A surprise?"

"Yes. But you'll have to wait a little longer."

Without objection, Arthur let you lead him to the divan, where you made him sit on it.

"You stay here for a moment and I'll be right back, darling."

A seductive glance from you was enough to make Arthur submissive. He took a deep, excited breath as he watched you disappear behind the divider. Arthur could only hear you opening the drawer and that made him very curious indeed. 

Little by little, you threw your clothes over the partition and Arthur became more and more nervous, more and more impatient, because every time a piece of clothing fell off your body, more skin was revealed. Arthur licked his lips at the thought, because he wanted to touch you, kiss you, taste your body.

"Babygirl? What are you doing?"

"I'm getting undressed," you said, giggling softly, because you could already tell by his voice that he was impatient. "Arthur, don't you dare look!"

"Alright, alright. I'm a good boy."

You couldn't resist teasing him, so you stuck your bare leg out of the partition and gave him a little taste.

Arthur grinned in amusement. He knew you were playful and he loved that. He also loved being teased by you and you loved it when he showed you where your place was... afterward.

It took you another moment to pull your last piece of clothing over your body. You were a little excited to present yourself right away in your new lingerie, because this one was really daring. And the way Arthur reacted the moment you came out from behind the partition, your surprise served its purpose.

Arthur's eyes grew wide, his lips were slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

"Surprise, surprise, my love."

"Sweet Jesus..."

You wore a black corset, which ended under your breasts and showed them off beautifully. In addition, you wore long, black silk stockings, which were attached to the corset with suspenders. But what finally made Arthur go crazy was the fact that you were not wearing any panties. Your most intimate part was out in the open, but you were wearing those wonderful suspenders and your gorgeous, sweet pussy was on display in all its beauty.

"Fuck... Y/N..."

What a sight! You had known he would like this and it excited you. Playfully, you bite your lower lip as you approach him slowly and smoothly, turning around once so Arthur can admire your bare ass.

"Do you like my little surprise, Arthur?" 

You laugh softly and seductively, already knowing the answer.

"If I wern't such a fucking gentleman, I'd throw you over my shoulder right now and fuck your brains out in bed!"

Oh, Arthur would certainly fuck you good and he would take you in that outfit. God, yes, he could already see you in front of him. How you would lie whimpering under him, in your stockings, while you would willingly stretch your pretty ass towards him, which he would slap a few times properly.

The thought alone heated Arthur up a lot and he began to sweat, instantly opening the collar of his shirt.

Arthur was about to get up, but you stopped him, because you weren't finished with your surprise.

"Relax, Arthur. Lay back and relax."

Arthur watched you kneel between his legs with lust in your eyes. 

Arthur grinned as he stared at your magnificent tits pressed upward by the corset. What would he give now to press his face between those magnificent pillows? To lick and suck on your nipples? 

"You're pure sin, you know that?"

"Mmm, is that so, Arthur?" you asked in a sweet tone as you slowly unzipped his pants and pulled down the zipper. Arthur drew in a sharp breath, knowing what was about to come, and he couldn't wait to feel your sweet mouth around his cock.

"Y/N... mhmm... you are such a naughty girl..."

You playfully lick your lips as you look at him, pulling his pants down a bit to free his manhood. His cock popped free, lying on his stomach and already aroused, but you knew there was more to be done. He already had a considerable size.

Tenderly, you grab his cock, slowly running your hand up and down, enjoying hearing Arthur take pleasure in it. You bend your head forward and start kissing him, tenderly and slowly. Your tongue glides along his velvety shaft, all the way up to his tip, which you then embrace with your lips and suck on.

"Ahh..."

Arthur lets his hand slide gently through your hair, watching you closely as he loved this view. As you look up at him, with your beautiful, big eyes, you finally take it into your mouth and Arthur thought he was losing his mind.

"Fuck..."

Pleasurably, he dropped his head into his neck as you sucked him and your delicate fingers stroked his testicles, knowing how wild that was making him.

"God, Y/N... ahhh..."

With a seductive giggle, you take him out of your mouth to now play with his plump, thick balls. You suck them gently into your mouth while Arthur makes it even easier for you to get  on the right spot. He rose from his spot, now towering over you as you still knelt in front of him. His hands held your head tightly as you worked his balls, sucking them greedily, but gently.

"Oh fuck... fuck..."

Arthur stroked himself, playing with the tip of his cock, while you sucked his balls greedy.

"You're such a naughty girl... mhmm..."

After a while, you took care of his hard, thick cock again. You wrapped your hand around it, massaging it, and Arthur looked down at you lustfully, grasping his cock himself. 

"Open your mouth!" he commanded, smacking his cock gently on your lips, whereupon you promptly stuck out your tongue catching the pre-cum dripping from it. Moaning with pleasure, Arthur watched you enjoy this moment very much. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your cheek, smearing his fluids over your skin.

"Ah... yes, Arthur..."

"You like that, don't you, Y/N?"

You look at his beautiful face with a smile, his shining eyes are so sexy.

With your delicate hands you embrace your plump breasts, his cock squeezed between the soft pillows and you massage it. Arthur moaned instantly, watching his cock being massaged between your tits.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you so hard for this; you won't be able to leave this room for the next few days... fuck... ahh..."

He was about to explode right in your face, but you stopped abruptly and you could hear the heavily disappointed undertone in his voice as the warm, soft feel of your tits no longer surrounded him. When Arthur opened his eyes, you were already on your feet again and with a cheeky expression on your pretty face as you backed away from him. You wanted to play, Arthur saw that and he liked to get involved in that kind of thing.

"Oh, so you wanna play, sweetheart?"

"Mmm, maybe."

Arthur took off his pants completely, already tugging his shirt over his shoulders, and tossed everything carelessly in a corner until he was finally standing in front of you in his full glory. 

Oh, what a man. So tall, masculine and muscular. His thighs resembled solid marble columns, his chest was covered with fine hair, a few scars adorned his body and he was perfect for you. Perfect and beautiful. Just as you were for Arthur.

His hungry eyes observed your body, the gorgeous, rounded hips, the plump tits that came out of that corset very provocatively. And your sweet, wet pussy, which was so indescribably beautiful and delicious. As was your scent, which was overwhelming.

"How beautiful you are, Y/N..."

He came closer to you and just as he was about to grab you, you slipped away from him and Arthur was very excited by that. It wouldn't be long before he had you either, as the room didn't offer many opportunities for escape. 

"Come here!"

He caught up to you quickly, reached around your thighs and waist , and threw you over his shoulder. With a solid smack on your buttock, he made you moan lustily.

"Mmm..." He bit your buttock with delight, making you laugh softly. "I should spank your ass, sweetheart. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm, why don't you try it, Arthur?"

Suddenly you feel his fingers sinking into your pussy and you take them deep without any problems.

"Look how wet you already are, princess!"

He finger-fucks you quickly, for a brief moment, which made you moan lustfully and whimper. When he takes his fingers out of you again, he licks your nectar off of them.

"Mmm..." He purrs softly, taking you to the bed where he tossed you in.

Instantly you spread your legs wide for him so he could see you in all your beauty. You were so dripping wet for him that it was already sliding down your labia and wetting the sheet beneath you.

"What a sight... I can't wait to lick that pretty pussy of yours, Y/N."

"Then come here, Arthur..." you said as you bit your lip and prepared to give yourself completely to him.

And Arthur wasted no time either, immediately laying down between your legs, inhaling your scent, murmuring deeply and excitedly and licking his lips as he did so. Shortly after, he sank his face between your pretty thighs and you felt his mouth taking you fully. Arthur was kissing you greedily, hungrily, enjoying the nectar that came out of you. 

You felt incredible pleasure, clawing at the sheet beneath you and moaning sweetly, while he eats you out like a pot of honey. He gently takes your labia into his mouth, sucking on it and then letting go. He did this over and over again, then ran his tongue between your labia and quickly swirls on your pearl with the tip of his tongue. And as Arthur did this, he could hear you whimpering and moaning, which excited him deeply. God, he couldn't wait to ram his hard cock deep into your wet hole and make love to you until you were completely drained in that bed. He had a single image running through his mind; you, covered in his cum, lying whimpering on the bed, with your legs spread wide, and yet you would be begging him to keep going. "Mhmm... ahh..." That filthy thought heated him up beyond belief, nearly driving him out of his mind.

His hands held your thighs tightly, holding you on the bed while his tongue pushed deep into your pussy. Soon, you started to tremble and that's when Arthur knew you were about to climax. 

Looking down at him, you stared directly into his eyes, which were full of lust and greed. They were dark with desire and you knew you were in for a long night; and hell yes, you wanted it. There was so much you could do, so much you could try. Just the two of you, wrapped in your passion, in the immense love you had for each other.

"A-Arthur... ahh..."

Your lust overtook you, your fingers clawing desperately into his hair and your lower body quivering as your climax shook you.

"God... Arthur!"

You tried to push his face away from you as this pleasure was almost unbearable and your clit was so incredibly sensitive, but Arthur wouldn't let you push him away, he held you close, fucking your hole with his tongue and you thought you were losing your mind. It gave him an incredible amount of pleasure to see you trembling so full of lust. He only let go of you slowly, looking at you very closely, seeing the lust in your mimic.

"Mhm..."

Arthur licked his lips sensually, you could see your nectar shimmering on his face and in his beard.

"Arthur... oh god..."

Your beautiful smile of joy, made his heart almost burst with joy. His warm body laid on top of you, his lips kissing yours hungrily and full of passion, while he guided his cock to your wet, wet pussy, stroking the tip over your clit, before entering deep inside you, moaning together with you full of pleasure...

♦♦♦♦

Your pussy was like velvet and you were hot, so wet. Arthur thought he was losing his mind. He began to thrust into you. Slowly at first and he savored being so deep inside you. His throbbing cock filled you completely. "Ahh... you're so tight and so hot..." he moaned against your ear and he bit your earlobe. His voice had gone a notch  darker and that made your body tremble with pleasure. His lips kissed your mouth as he moved rhythmically inside you and his tart scent clouded your senses. He smelled of leather, thyme and tobacco...

The sound of his balls smacking against your wetness filled the room as he thrust hard and deep into you from behind. Your butt cheeks bounced with each thrust, as did your plump breasts. His strong hand gripped your ass, squeezing tightly, before giving it a good smack.

"Ahh! Arthur... yes..."

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, deeply aroused, while he kept fucking your brains out. His hands spread your butt cheeks apart and he enjoyed the sight of his cock slamming into you again and again, his balls slapping against your pussy.

"Oh, fuck... mhmm..."

Enveloped by your scent and your husky, lustful sounds, and after more powerful thrusts from Arthur, he felt that he would soon reach his climax and you too felt yourself tingling violently between your legs and the feeling growing in your belly. When his hand slid between your thighs to caress your clit, you were soon overcome by your climax. Your ass stretched out to Arthur and you clawed at the sheet beneath you for help, driving him crazy with the sight of your beautiful body. And finally he squirted his seed deep into your soft pussy, growling lustfully and closing his eyes as he thrust into you trembling and riding out his climax. "Ahhhh!" 

He clung to you as you both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Your hearts beat quickly in time and it took a moment for you to calm down from your climax. You felt so desired, so loved; you felt like you would always find protection in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments; your foreheads resting together, not wanting to lose the feeling of the other. This was a special moment for both of you...

♦♦♦♦

"I would love to stay here for a few more days. Just live like a normal couple on a vacation," you said as you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase. Arthur could understand you very well. It was something different not to have to worry all the time about what was going to happen to all of you. The two of you had not spoken once about the current situation in the camp during the time you were here. At the moment everything was going well, but for how long? You had often had this thought, but this weekend, you had completely blocked it out, and that was a good thing.

"You know, sweetheart, I'd like to take you to Strawberry. To the mountains, to nature. Enjoy the peace and quiet..." Arthur hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, smiling contentedly. Loving you was a blessing for him. You were an incredible woman that he desired so much and his heart, his soul, belonged to you alone.

"What do you think of that, Y/N?"

"I'd love that Arthur. Just you and me..."

"Yes."

He tenderly kissed your lips and whatever was to come was of no importance at the moment.

[featguler]

you should do arda as a vampire since you brought that up 🙏

arda is definitely an accident.

it's quite laughable to think of a life as an accident, but no matter, he's dead now. if you give arda the choice to die at 19 or live to 100, he would choose the latter with no doubt. 100 is too much. for him, two digits is more than enough. who needs three?

boy, does he hate being an undead.

i see him as, like, someone who loves life. he lives for family gathering and surprising his friends for his birthday.

he misses the dinners most. now, what his mouth considers sweet isn't baclava but fucking human blood. it's so embarrassing to him that he has to remind himself—down, boy, down—whenever he gets just a little bit too hungry around a human.

fuckass young vampire not knowing that you have to kill someone, suck their blood dry, when they feast on them. they left him by the side of the river, hoping he would just be another unsolved murder, and now arda's a fucking bloodsucking creep.

who can he blame?

he tries going to a mosque and the cold tiles burn his sole. he tries opening the gates to a church and his skin melts to the metal. hell, he tries seeking alternative methods, but the air conditioner of that yoga hall enters his nose like it's some kind of arsenic.

and you know what he hates most out of it?

what he hates the most out of this cursed life that he never asked for?

that fact that that he has to be goddamned invited to go inside a house.

even his own house!

it's his own house—an apartment unit, but a home nevertheless! built brick-by-brick (rented) by his own hand (money from part-timing)!

first night as a vampire, he kills a woman by a rundown library. first morning as a vampire, he finds out the sun burns him so he hides under a bridge. second night as a vampire, he returns home to find an invisible partition separating him from the warm allure of his bedcovers.

fuck fuck fuck fuck.

so imagine his discontent when he returned to that stupid, studio apartment on the fifth floor to see you, the new tenant, trying to figure out where to put the tv: next to the bookcase (that he had bought the second year he lived on his own!) or beside the front door.

he stalks you from the window, sitting on the fire exit (what? you think he's some kind of freak perched on the window sill?), and tilts his head at your questionable feng shui decisions.

his mother would kill him if she sees the dining table set up that close to the kitchen pantry.

when he stares long enough, then, he notices that you're a pretty little thing. stupid, clumsy, but pretty.

fuck. he's gaining that pride, the one other vampires warned him about, that immortal pride, thinking all things living are silly little creatures used to adorn the immortal's infinite tapestry.

he needs this goddamned house back. when he sees you turning awkwardly positioned television off, putting on a jacket and heading to the door for a night's out with your friends, arda hops off the stairs to the ground.

no matter that his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks hollow. no matter that he has longer canines than humans.

he'll talk to you, charm you a bit, and make you invite him to your—his—apartment. maybe manipulate your thinking, making you abide to his orders for a bit before feasting on your blood. he hasn't quite figured that part out, but he'll be fine.

notes: you're crazy for this because vampires are my favorite halloween monsters ever. ever. ever. i love vampires i believe they are real unfollow me if you think they're just fiction. i also love aliens. spooktober special!

[fkmarrycill]

One Shot: Pre-Gaming

(Pic added after the original post because it totally fits the vibe of the story. 😌)

1191 words, 🔞 for that smut

Notes:

Can you tell I'm really, really concerned about how our man will survive awards season? ☺️ I'm not sure if he'll attend any of the shows (really hope he does), or if he has any rituals for situations like this, but this is where my imagination took me. 😈

This is pure fiction, and in this scenario, Cillian is in a relationship, but not married and no kids. I read Cillian as an intelligent, decent, sometimes awkward guy who is also capable of being spicy when needed or desired. 😌

It's M/F dynamic, and I often keep the lady leads generic in description so more people can imagine along. 😉

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Cillian had gone silent. His arms were crossed, and he was staring out the window. Maybe he saw the city cruise by, or maybe he was too lost in thought to notice; she couldn't tell. All she knew was that he was relaxed at the hotel, but as soon as the limo door shut, his mood had changed.

She'd had her hand on his thigh for the whole ride so far. That subtle reminder of her support wasn't enough for him, she realized, but she knew what would be.

“Cill?” She addressed him gently.

“Mmm?” He responded absentmindedly.

Definitely lost in thought. “You need to relax. I'm going to make you feel better before we get there. Would you like head, or a quickie? Neither is not an answer.”

“That obvious that I'm fucking nervous, eh?” He chuckled in spite of himself. “Of course, I would’ve rather stayed home, but…” He trailed off and watched her kneel before him and begin to unzip and lower his tuxedo pants.

“What?” She said in response to his quizzical expression. “I thought maybe this would help you decide.” She looked up at him and winked. At this moment, she was glad she'd chosen the little black lace number instead of the gown with the train. She'd be able to move more freely for him, and it would be harder to mess up the dress.

“Now, what’ll you have, Mr. Murphy?” She placed her hands on his thighs and caressed them softly.

He glanced at the closed partition between them and the driver, checked his watch, and a mischievous grin bloomed on his face. He leaned forward. “Looks like we have plenty of time. Hmmm… Film award nominees tend to get special treatment, isn't that right? Give me both, love. Your mouth first, then that irresistible cunt.”

“Spoken with the confidence of a winner, whether it's tonight or another night. It's coming, either way.”

“Just like me, in a matter of moments, thanks to you.” He tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Christ, we sound like some dreadfully unimaginative 70s porn! Let's stop talking, before we turn each other off.”

“Excellent idea.”

Both of them laughed, partners in crime with the same sense of humor.

She gave him one last affectionate smile, then began to caress his thighs with long, soft strokes that made him shift on his seat. She traced the same path with her lips, on one thigh, then the other, nuzzling the expanses of skin.

He turned the volume up on the music, in anticipation of giving in to wherever she led him. She stretched herself higher and loomed over his lap, then tugged at his underwear. He shifted on the seat to help her efforts in removing her last barrier. He placed his hands on her head and squeezed softly, a gentle request for the warmth of her lips on his hardened, eager cock.

He groaned softly as her lips surrounded his girth and her hands connected with him, and he hissed, eyes shut tightly, when she teased the sensitive underside of his dick with her tongue.

His million-dollar face contorted–jaw clenched, brow furrowed, nostrils flared, full lips parted–as he savored her work. By then, she had taken more of him in, feasting on his length with her enthusiastic licking and sucking.

He began to grind his hips, arching into her mouth to feel her deeper and more intensely.

She loved seeing him like that, focused on the sensations, thoughts as far away as possible from cameras, paparazzi, and all the sequined and bow-tied cogs in the Hollywood machine–everyone they'd be unable to escape for hours once they left their mobile love nest. Giving him release was the least she could do for him. She was well aware of all the effort and sacrifice he put into his celebrated performance as Oppenheimer, and she thought he deserved to be in the right mood to enjoy his moment of recognition, win or lose.

She knew she was wet already, from the way her body throbbed in excitement. She had one more ace to play, one more thing to share that would push him past the point of no return. “I was going to surprise you later,” she murmured conspiratorially, “but this will give you something else to think about in your seat…”

He watched her through glazed, darkened eyes as she climbed into his lap, hiked her dress, and sank down on him, inch by inch.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped. “No fucking panties… Are you trying to kill me?”

“No, babe, I'm just trying to fill your head with good thoughts before we get there.” She rolled her body at a brisk pace and kissed him deeply.

He grasped her hips and overtook the pace of her thrusts, writhing against her in a controlled manner that made both of them wail. She rocked into him and edged closer to being completely undone.

One of his hands crept up to the small of her back, while the other meandered down her leg to find her clit, which he massaged the way she loved, ratcheting up her cries in the process.

Their rhythm quickened some more. A lock of his hair fell down, toward his eyes, and she brushed it back into place. She desperately wanted to clutch her hands in his hair, like she normally did, but quickly nixed the idea, remembering the effort that had gone into his sophisticated look. There'd be plenty of time later for reckless behavior, she thought–on the ride back to the hotel, or in the bed, regardless of whether they were celebrating or preparing to return to their usual pace of life.

“Oh, fuckkkk…” His breathing was shallow, and his face flushed as his eyes rolled back. “I'm gonna…”

“Me, too, baby,” she said, equally breathless. The tightness that had built up at her core gave way to waves of bliss, and moments later, Cillian tensed as his own climax tore through his body.

He held her in a tight hug and kissed the top of her head while they caught their breath.

After a while, she moaned contentedly and looked up at him. “Feeling better, Cill?”

“You have no idea, lass. Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear, beautiful boyfriend.”

He kissed her softly, then looked at his watch. “We should be there soon, better get ourselves back together as best as we can.”

They scrambled to straighten up and return to their initial positions in the car.

“You know,” started Cillian, as they rounded the corner to the venue, “At some point tonight, when I can't stand it anymore, I'd love to steal away with you to a bathroom or somewhere else that we can be alone…”

“I like the way you think! But what if we get caught?” She gathered her purse and prepared to exit the limo.

“I think ecstatic award winner caught fucking his girlfriend will be much better for my brand,” he said with air quotes, “than those pics of me pissing on the side of the pub, don't you think?” He winked and kissed her passionately.

Before she could respond, he opened the car door and they emerged. They were quickly besieged by camera flashes, and the huge smiles on both their faces were real.

[arting-block]

you can do Eleventh Doctor x reader

The reader deals with the consequences of being the doctor's companion and unrequited love.

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 | Eleventh Doctor x GN! Reader

❝𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬.❞

Summary: You see the Doctor's love go to someone other than you.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love

Words: 1.1K

A/N: Cooked this up with 3 braincells and lots of River x Eleven edits.

It wasn't anything special that made you like him.

Granted, everything the Doctor does is extraordinary in some way. Something hardwired in his brain that allows him to break boundaries. What is and is not possible is merely a dare for him to engage in. For him to show you just how limited your perception of this universe is. True this part of him, all alien in every way is something you valued in him, it’s not what brought the weakness in your knees. 

No, it’s something far more ordinary. Very unlike him. 

A gradual buildup that took years of small moments with the Doctor. Taking your hand in a gentle tug, pointing to various attractions to visit. Complimenting an outfit you put together for the time period you ended up in. Praise for studying hard and wanting to impress the locals. 

Above all, it was the times where nothing was said what solidified your love for the man. The TARDIS idly floating in the vacuum of space. Your legs dangling over the edge of the open door, staring out to whatever nebula you found yourself in. The Doctor would often tuck himself next to you, shoulder to shoulder. You let the air around you carry your emotions; your mind conjuring your confession. 

He would look at you, a small smile to let you know he’s there for you. And maybe, if the adventure was too taxing, the Doctor would let you lean into his side. Arms wrapping around each other, cuddling while gazing at stars.

Your face against the soft cotton of his shirts, hearing the two thuds of his own hearts. 

Leaning against the textured wall, you observe the Doctor. Once a week, every week, and without fail the Doctor would dedicate time to tinker with the console of the TARDIS. Sounds of bolts hitting the clear floor and the cranking of tools would accompany the Doctor’s rare curses. 

A familiar routine. Private.

The Doctor keeps this ritual to himself. In the little spare time he has he closes off into a bubble. Various machine parts and thick cables surround the area creating a partition. 

You wouldn’t dare to impede on the Doctor. There’s been too many close calls, more than enough life-ending encounters lately.

He needs this, you think to yourself, if he wanted your help he would ask.

You’ve chosen a small nook to occupy, elevated so you could get a bird’s eye view of the Doctor. His back faces you, hunched over the same area of the console for the last thirty minutes. Another curse tumbles out of his lips. Quiet, but your ears never fail to hear his voice. You knew the Doctor could easily rip the entire place apart and rebuild it from scratch. Something else is haunting him, and the poor console is taking the brunt of it. The side where the Doctor is working on had its lights shut off.

Go ask. Let him know you’re here.

Your feet stay planted to the ground. Feelings aren’t something the Doctor discusses. In the few times he does expose a piece of his past, he does so with reluctance. For someone who loves taking you to it, the Doctor hates looking back. It’s one of the unspoken rules you’ve discovered rather quickly. 

The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair. His face is obscured but you can imagine his frustration as clear as day. Brows pinched, mouth in a tight line, and his jaw clenched. 

“You’ve certainly made quite the mess here,” a voice—familiar and dreadful—cuts through silence like a knife, “Are you sure that button is in its rightful spot?”

River Song passes the partition with graceful, measured steps. Blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and a pristine outfit of a t-shirt and pants. Despite just hours ago the three of you trekked the slopes of a mountain River always seemed to look fresh out of a photoshoot. You’re pretty sure mud still caked the cuffs of your jeans.

You’ve met the archeologist a few times. More often than not it’s because she orchestrated some sort of meeting to get the Doctor where she needed to be. They regarded each other with such familiarity that jealousy was all you could see. 

Plucking a metal part from the Doctor’s hand, River ducked beneath the console. A few moments later the console’s lights finally turned on. 

“I was just about to do that, but I was taking a break,” the Doctor explains. 

River hummed, not too convinced, “What’s got the almighty Doctor stuck in his own head? Certainly had to be worrisome if he couldn’t connect the converter to the energy shaft. Even a baby could rig that up.”

A crack of a smile formed on the Doctor’s face, “Always observant, aren’t you Song?”

You shouldn’t eavesdrop like this; clearly a private conversation. 

A nagging voice at the back of your head tells you to stay put. To watch. See if the Doctor indulges River in the luxuries you want. Some part of you wants to know what exactly River is to the Doctor.

River is just a friend. The Doctor said so. He wouldn’t keep something like that from you.

The two of them step towards one another in sync. River with her all-knowing gaze and cunning smile; the Doctor with the weight of his problems sagging his shoulders. 

You watched helplessly as River placed a hand on the Doctor’s face. With a stomach full of lead, you watch the Doctor lean into her touch. His own hand ghosting over River’s hip as if it belongs there. 

Thousands of words spoken with just their eyes. Eons of friendship—love, perhaps between the two. 

You’ve never explicitly asked what their relationship to one another was. In a way, you dreaded what the answer would be. 

“Are you leaving soon?” the Doctor whispered. Longing.

You can’t turn away, no matter how much your heart ached.

“Do you want me to stay?” River shifted closer, her other hand resting above his chest, “If so, I might need a little convincing.”

An invitation.

The Doctor looked at River as if she hung the stars themselves. Their hands around one another in a way that reminded you of a married couple. Time moves slowly in the moment leading up to their foreheads touching. A tooth-achingly sweet, intimate gesture. A sight that makes your insides churn painfully.  

“Please, River. Just for the night,” the Doctor begs, “I need you.”

River lets out a small chuckle. Untangling herself with the Doctor, she moves to rearrange the parts surrounding the two of them, “Can’t leave the TARDIS like this. What would happen if Y/N tripped over your mess?”

The sound of your name made you strain for a response.

“They won’t. I’m sure they could figure out where to put these if they put their mind to it.”

Praise coming from the Doctor would normally make your heart flutter. In its place a cold, awful feeling that anchors itself in your gut. Your feet finally move from the corner of the room to the winding hallway. The faint chatter of the two fading away until the only sound you hear is the beating of your heart. 

They never kissed, yet the scene that unfolded made you wish they did. A kiss wouldn’t hurt as much as the Doctor begging River to stay. His voice above a whisper so that only she would hear. A moment so tender that it forcefully shifted your thinking. Those heartfelt moments you had with the Doctor were nothing more than platonic. You were never a contender for his love. It’s almost comical how you could even think that you were worthy of him. A human with such a fragile body and short lifespan. 

Even if by some miracle he did reciprocate those feelings, it wouldn’t matter.

Her. There would always be her.

[madaims]

So Doctor Who, Empire of Death. Sorry this is a day late! No partition thing this time because I’m guessing everyone has watched it now.

I actually really enjoyed this episode and thought it was a great way to end the season. I have absolutely no idea still who or what Mrs Flood is, she’s an anomaly. That’s what she is! 🤣

So Ruby actually found her birth mother and she wasn’t an alien. She’s actually just a normal person. Bit disappointing but makes sense I guess. I nearly cried when they hugged. Understandably, I get emotional at episodes of Long Lost Family. I can’t watch it, it ALWAYS makes me cry. My mum laughs at me. 😭 So yep got a bit teary eyed back there.

Sutekh literally got killed off, can’t say I’m surprised. Finally the Doctor went feral! 🤣

When everybody went all Avengers Infinity War, I was kind of wondering how the Doctor would actually save the day. It didn’t seem like something he could actually fix. Saying that though, it’s Doctor Who, even if it doesn’t make sense, the Doctor will always save the day. I was a bit scared that this would have a dystopian ending for a bit. I’ve seen too many things with bad endings recently I guess.

Felt proper sad when the people at UNIT got dusted. Especially Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. I was all like “You can’t kill Kate!” 😭😭😭

So when is Doctor Who back then? Christmas? Judging by Anita Dobson at the end all dressed wintery and wonderful being a fucking weirdo, I’m guessing it will be. Maybe the next season might introduce the new companion? Here’s hoping there will be more fan favourite villains. I want to see Ncuti fight Daleks!

Overall personally not what I’d call a great season, but the ending was good and it’s gotten me excited for the next season. So that’s a good thing. It’s been mostly just good I guess. Nothing amazing or spectacular, just good.

I like Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson a lot, but I guess I want to see them do more. We need more running! More of the Doctor being inquisitive and amazed by things! More monsters of the week! More Rogue! More gay! 🌈 Just more fun!

It’s weird I started off these reviews saying stop with the silly, and now I’m ending them for now with “Give us more silly!” Haha

Till the Christmas special I guess! 👋

On an end note, here have a giant dog getting pulled through the time vortex:

[coochiequeens]

Not the first time Japanese women and girls suffered through sexual violence from American servicemen.

By BRIAN MCELHINEY AND KEISHI KOJA STARS AND STRIPES • July 12, 2024 Source - Stars and Stripes

CAMP FOSTER, Okinawa — A U.S. airman stationed at Kadena Air Base, in his first appearance Friday in a Japanese court since his indictment in March, denied charges against him of kidnapping and sexually assaulting a minor.

Senior Airman Brennon Richard Edward Washington, 25, assigned to the 18th Logistics Readiness Squadron, was charged with kidnapping and non-consensual sex with a minor in December.

His case, and that of a Marine lance corporal charged in a separate case with attempted sexual assault, sparked protests from Okinawa Gov. Denny Tamaki of the U.S. military’s failure to discipline its troops.

He also protested to Tokyo of its and the Naha Public Prosecutors Office’s failures to promptly notify the prefecture of the charges. The case only came to light in late June when Washington was scheduled for his first court appearance.  

The hearing began at 1:40 p.m. before a full courtroom.

“Is anything wrong with the facts written in the charge sheet?” Naha District Court Judge Tetsuro Sato, head of a three-judge panel, asked Washington after the charges were read.

“I’m not guilty,” Washington said. “I did not kidnap, I did not rape.”

According to the indictment provided by the prosecutors’ office, Washington approached the girl in a Yomitan village park Dec. 24 “with the purpose of kidnapping and conducting indecent acts on her.”

Prosecutors allege Washington said to the girl, “Let’s talk in the car because it’s cold.” From the park he drove the girl to his home off base, where he sexually assaulted her, knowing she was under 16, according to the indictment.

Washington’s attorney told the court that the airman “admitted that he took the woman to his house and performed sexual actions.”

“But he asked the woman’s age, and he thought that she was 18 years old,” the attorney said. “He did not have intentions to molest her and abduct her. Until the time she left he was unaware that she was under 16. He did not pull down her lingerie; it was done with her cooperation.”

The Japanese prosecutor said the girl went to the park after a fight with her mother, which she explained to Washington using a translator app. Washington, who went to the park after fighting with his wife, told the girl he was a “special detective in the military,” the prosecutor said.

The prosecutor played footage of the incident from security cameras in the park via table monitors only Washington, his attorney and the judges could see. Washington appeared calm while watching the video.

“Washington talked to the girl at around 4:30 p.m., saying ‘daijoubu?’ (are you OK) in Japanese,” the prosecutor said. “He asked her age, and she said her age in Japanese and also made gestures with her hands.

“The girl went back home crying, and her mother reported it to the police,” the prosecutor added. The hearing adjourned after the video showing. The next hearing is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. Aug. 23.

The victim and her mother are expected to appear to provide statements; partitions will be erected to protect their privacy, according to Sato. Washington was released from jail and restricted to Kadena following the indictment, and the U.S. government took his passport, 18th Wing spokesman Capt. Alvin Nelson told Stars and Stripes via email July 3.

“The U.S. military takes these allegations very seriously, and the 18th Wing has been cooperating with local authorities to ensure a thorough investigation while ensuring due legal process under the applicable laws and agreements,” Nelson said.

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

The Visitor

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFFF282 out of love. Thank you for the prompt. I am asking you to tread carefully. Although, this is an alternate universe and clearly focused on the side characters, this is post-anime yet some descriptions can be seen as spoilers for “The Paradise of a Crow” off the second part of the Yatagarasu series.

—

Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters: Hajime Yasuhara, Yori (Yoritō), The Marquis

Rating: Teens up

Word count: 1097

AN unpleasant smell of unwashed bodies mixed with stale perfume, used clothes, and fresh sweat welcomed Hajime as soon as he boarded the Shinjuku train. It was rush hour.

The so many people confined in small spaces somehow agitated him. They also fascinated him.

Don’t get me wrong I have found a renewed appreciation staying in the Outside World, but still, it makes me want to stay in the four corners of my tobacco shop forever.

He never usually went out, but seeing his partner Yori, yes one could call him his partner now, who volunteered to become his butler cum bodyguard as if Hajime-san were an aristocrat, he wanted to do something for the younger man out of love.

After many times asking Yori when his birthday was Hajime found a way to get him a special present. One might call him stingy for asking one of his older brothers for a favour but if the said brother’s company sold cars successfully, and he, Hajime-san, got a discount for it then it was fine. Frugality was something he learned from their foster father, but not to the point of denying oneself with self-caring, which comprehensively could mean from shrewd gambling to eating the best mochi in town.

Yori, he found out, loved to discover temples and shrines that oftentimes he had to travel by foot as he despised, no, avoided train stations, due to past life.

His former master, The Marquis, had several guards in Japan that appeared in crow-form, and they usually guarded the train stations.

Hajime did not understand the logic, but he gave Yori the benefit of the doubt.

Birds could appear anywhere, and it did not matter where you were.

Oh well��

In his rucksack was the paperwork for Yori-chan’s new red Vespa that he took a liking a month ago. Hajime’s old bicycle, which Yori often used, showed signs of slow death that after the young man took part in the Tanabata Festival in Asakusa, Yori abandoned the broken bicycle and walked two hours going home.

Hajime didn’t know if he should laugh or cry out of his friend’s predicament but in the end Yori went up to him with his tired eyes. He began to shiver and at that moment searched for Hajime’s warmth that the latter felt the young man’s arms enveloped his waist.

He used to be a warrior. Always has been. Why does he feel so vulnerable now?

That was in July. Yori’s behavior, truth to tell, bewildered Hajime for a fleeting time, but he took it in stride.

Now the cold crispy morning air of autumn fell upon them. Darkness came early at 4 pm. Yet the shop was already closed. Did Yori not feel well that he had to close shop early? When he opened the door, he noticed that the keyhole was broken. There were crows on the roof. Another one perched on the broken partition wall of his neighbour’s house.

A burglar? Them? Where was Yori? And if there was any, how could Yori, a warrior in Yamauchi, be overcome?

These Yamauchi warriors could be likened to samurais in their heydays. Strong, brave, agile, and knowledgeable in martial arts.

What is happening?

There were voices on the second floor. The language that he heard before and personally got to know almost a year ago.

What do they want?

“Ah, Yasuhara-san, here you are. We have been waiting for you. I see that you are still enjoying Yoritō-dono’s services here. I can say that he’s done a good job, don’t you think?”

The Marquis, in person, but without his usual garb. His long wavy brown hair with white streaks were hidden in a wig that somehow suited him. He looked younger, like a boss in a company dealing with finances. His dapper dark grey three-piece suit replaced his priestly robes. The Marquis was dashing, if Hajime were honest with himself. His Cheshire smile brought memories, often ugly ones, that it was not up for good. But there remained one problem.

“Where is Yori?” Hajime’s heart was pounding.

“I am here,” said a confident voice.

Yori was holding a folder that Hajime knew by heart. It was the deed for the Mount Arayama’s right of ownership.

“Several guards are hovering around the houses and condominiums of your family ready to strike. I heard that your mother has a particular fear against the crows…” The Marquis touched his thin lips. His eye bags were noticeable, like beauty flaws, yet they didn’t match the evilness behind those eyes.

“What are you planning, you lying scumbag?!”

“Ah. Perhaps Yoritō-dono has the answer?” The Marquis looked at the person, whom Hajime called a friend.

“I have studied your penmanship and was able to acquire the skills to copy them. For the deed to take place, I require your blood, or any bodily fluids to make it appear that it is you who has signed it.”

Oh my god! So that explained that strange day during the Tanabata Festival.

~~

Hajime felt the arms around his waist. Yori looked up to him with his beautiful drooping brown eyes. The eyelashes were so long he could not help putting his lips on them. Without further explanation, he stuck out his tongue and lick them.

Everything went so fast when he became aware that Yori took off his jeans and his white underwear.

“Yori, you…”

“Let me do this, Hajime-san.” Yori bent his head and smelled his genitalia. He then took it and began to work on it earnestly. Tears broke out from their faces as soon as Hajime reached the climax.

It must be the nearness. The solidarity that brought them together.

“Let me take care of you this time…” Hajime reached for his lover’s zipper.

“No, no. I am good. I only want to do it for you. I want to see you satisfied.”

That was the first and attempts to do it again were unsuccessful.

~~

“Ah… of course… those trips to temples and shrines are only a front, you met them secretly.”

“Yoritō is a good actor, isn’t he, Yasuhara-san? He is my protégé. There are times we use seduction to get our way too.” The Marquis chuckled, who stood up from Hajime’s favourite armchair, clasped the tips of his forefingers together close to his lips.

The semen, the fake handwriting, and the fake affection.

They left him alone without a proper goodbye, frozen where he was standing. And that was the end of it. The question remained if he would see these creatures again.

~tbc~

[thesupreme316]

Could I request a HOOK Valentine’s Day smut and or fic?

Partition (Hook x Fem!Reader):

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive (failed), Comedy (fail)

Summary: What happens when Hook forgets it's Valentine's Day and your anniversary?

Word Count: 1,585

Supreme Speaks: hehe, so this was supposed to be uploaded by Valentine's day (my bad). anywhoosies, thank you to @hookerforhook for the request, I hope you and everyone else enjoy it. also, it's my first time doing something suggestive (cause i don't write smut) but please lemme know if it's good. ALSO ALSO, i hope everyone is doing well and remember you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: slightly proofread, failed suggestive and comedic content

Taglist (if you wanna be apart of it, lemme know): @hookerforhook @triscillal @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @diabloguapos @wwenhlimagines

“You seriously don’t know what day it is?” You looked into his eyes to see if he was lying or not.

“It’s Tuesday.”

You rolled your eyes, groaned, and stomped away from your boyfriend of three months, Tyler.

Tyler was, for lack of better words, stoic. Sometimes too stoic for your liking. To the world, he appeared cold and careless. However, within the three months (and even before) of your relationship, Tyler always showed affection and his softer side to you, whether people were around or not. He was able to remember little, almost unrecognizable, habits and details about you. Like how you chew with the right side of your mouth, when you get nervous that you tap your fingers against your neck, or how your favorite color is a particular shade and not the whole range of the color. He knew so much about you, yet, he couldn’t remember today’s date.

It was Valentine’s Day.

Not only was it Valentine’s Day….

It was your 3 month anniversary…And this dude forgot it.

To some, 3 months is not a major thing, but to you, every anniversary/celebration is important. Just like for other girls and or couples, today was special for you, or at least it was supposed to be. You just don’t know it wasn’t special enough to Tyler, who literally (not literally) kept hinting for you to go out with him 3 months ago.

Was it you? Maybe you didn’t push the occasion to him enough. Then again, he doesn’t like people repeating themselves or people pushing concepts on him. Maybe he wasn’t a Valentine’s Day kind of guy. Or maybe he has bad memories of Valentine’s Day. Whatever the reason, it didn’t excuse him from missing an important occasion.

Bitterly chuckling, you kept walking to your hotel room and kept trying to tell yourself that he probably has something planned. Opening the door, you saw the presents you got for your forgetful boyfriend sitting on your bed. That sight broke you, here you got him the things that he had his eyes on and you got nothing.

You quickly sat the presents on the table before flopping on your bed face first. Now you were completely over today. You were conflicted about the reason and it just dampen your mood. In the middle of your sulking, you didn’t notice the door opening for your roommate to walk in.

“Girl, I leave you for like 15 minutes and you’re already in distress.” Willow jokingly said. You, with slightly red eyes, look up to find Willow and Ruby. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Willow said, rubbing your back.

“Tyler forgot about today.” You quietly replied

“Honestly, maybe he just thinks you already know how much he loves you and thought he didn’t have to do anything,” Willow said shrugging

“It’s our three-month anniversary.”

“Oh, he’s a dumbass.” Ruby sat on the floor as Willow kicked her shin. “Ow, what? It’s probably true. Man eats chips on a daily.”

Willow rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m sure that he didn’t mean to forget. He probably has a lot on his plate with the title and going against The firm.”

You wiped your eyes, before slightly nodding. It was like you were trying to convince yourself more than the two women in your room. “You’re right. Hopefully, he has something planned for us, like a surprise or something. But let’s change the subject,” you started, “What are you guys doing today?”

Ruby, not looking up from her phone, scoffed, “Willow’s been trying to show me the so-called magic of Valentine’s Day. It’s not working.”

“She just hates seeing people happy.”


“No, I hate seeing corny couples happy. Y/N and Hook are not corny, so I wish them well.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your friends’ complex and clashing viewpoint: Ruby hates the aesthetic of Valentine’s Day but wants to see you happy (and knows the basic components of relationships). Willow on the other wants to see everyone happy. You were happy to have friends like them, to give you multiple perspectives and pieces of advice. “Okay, well since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna have a Galentine’s Day? We can go to Build-A-Bear or something.”

As you were gonna answer, Ruby cut you off, “No! I hate kids!”

Willow shouted back, “You hate everyone!”

“Not you guys!”

Before you could break up the soon-to-be argument, there was a knock at the door. Ruby got up and opened the door to see Darius and Dante Martin standing there, who happens to be two of Tyler’s best friends.

“Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!” Dante said entering the room with his brother.

Darius’ eyes widened at the sight of you, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be out already?”

Ruby rolled her eyes before saying, “No, your best friend doesn’t remember what today is.”

“Yeah, go ask your little friend,” Willow said while rubbing your back.

“No, Hook told us tha-“ Darius started before Dante covered his mouth. You raised an eyebrow as the brothers went to a corner and whispered to each other. It was never like Dante to cut his brother off. And it was never like them to keep a secret from you (especially when it concerns Tyler). Your eyes shifted between them as they started making their way toward the door. “Sorry! We’ll be sure to talk to him! Okay, you guys bye!” Darius quickly said as Dante pushed him out of the door.

Frustrated, you fell back on the bed and asked Willow and Ruby to leave you out of today’s plans. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts. As Ruby dragged your roommate out, the only thing you could think about was Tyler: how you wished he was here, wishing that he remembered, and what you guys would do if he remembered. This entire time, you were trying to keep your hopes (hoping that he’ll pull through, especially when Dante and Darius showed up) but at this moment, you started to accept that today was going to be a regular day.

As you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you opened the door but found no one at the door. But instead, two bags with a note attached. You picked them up before reading the note.

Sweetheart,

Of course, I wouldn’t forget about tonight. Put these on and get ready for a night you can’t forget.

Tyler

Your mood went from sad to happy in a matter of seconds. You squealed and immediately shut the door, dashing to the bathroom. In one bag was a beautiful black dress that you had your eye on for the past few weeks. In the other bag was a pair of shoes that were sold out for as long as you had them in your cart. Your smile grew larger, as you began to put on the dress. It was a perfect fit, hugging your body beautifully. Hook really knew you. You did your makeup (that complimented your eyes and skin tone) before quickly styling your hair.

As you were finishing up the final details of your look, there was a knock at the door. You ran to the door and opened it to reveal your boyfriend in a black tuxedo in all-white sneakers, holding two bouquets of roses (one in red and the other in your favorite color). Whether wearing a suit or not, Tyler would always refuse to wear dress shoes. You smiled up at him (even with heels, you were still shorter than him), “I actually thought you forgot.”

“I’m offended at the amount of faith you have in me,” Tyler said with a fake pout. He presented the flowers to you, pushing them in your hands. “I would never forget something so important, sweetheart.” He kissed you on the cheek before stepping inside the hotel room. You closed the door and put the flowers down as Tyler continued, “Look, I’m sorry that I made you upset. Dante and Darius came to me and told me how sad you were. I just needed more time to ensure everything was perfect tonight.”

Your eyes sparkled at the confession, “For me?”

Tyler smirked before stepping closer and giving you a sweet kiss, “You deserve it. Only the best.” He gave you another kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Happy 3-month anniversary.”

“Is this the start of your apology?” You asked, raising an eyebrow with a small smirk

“I was hoping the dress and shoes were.”

You backed up and did a twirl, showing off your outfit. “I think so, you’re doing an okay job so far. I look amazing.”

Tyler nodded, “You look gorgeous, babe. But I think you would look better beneath me.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, grazing your lips. “Don’t you?” He whispered.

“I agree with you, baby.” You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But I think, you should be on your knees and giving me that apology right now. Don’t you?” You sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him with a hint of lust and mischief in your eyes.

Slightly chuckling, Tyler leaned down to give you a long yet passion-filled kiss. He then descended onto the floor in front of you, on his knees. He lifted your right leg and kissed your ankle, “I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”

Let’s just say, you two didn’t make it to the reservations that Tyler made that night.

[dodorimo]

all the little things

There are days when her pale friend comes to visit her with a sad look in his eyes that makes her wonder if she would ever see him again. He tells her he will leave, that this is the last time. She will be in good hands, he reassures her, all her needs seem to. He always comes back.

Durgestarion AU where Astarion decides to stay with The Dark Urge after she is cursed by her father to be consumed by the urge. Rated E, 1.9k

Tags: extremely dubious consent, vaginal sex, angst, dark themes, named dark urge, this is just depression hours forgive me

AO3 link

Her past is a bottomless pit in a lonely clearing. Eventually, something will spring to the surface.

She remembers a man with dark hair and even darker eyes, wearing metal gloves. An old man with a hole in his chest, sitting on a throne of miasma and bones. And a long-haired woman with a familiar face, wielding a crimson dagger.

Not everything is clear. She remembers a painful betrayal. Fighting her sister in an arena of blood. Father being displeased with her. Then a feeling of emptiness she can’t quite put her finger on. All pointless now.

The rosewood partition filters the candlelight, sending small glowing dots dancing across the ceiling. Eirin counts them all, one by one. At the edge of her vision, a blur of white curls and the occasional pale shoulder.

Her elf friend moves in and out inside her body, his brow furrowed as if in pain. She doesn’t understand why he is in pain. She is at her happiest when they are connected like this, at the hips, with his fist full of her hair and his teeth on her neck. 

Slowly—hesitantly—she reaches out, and brushes his sweat-slicked locks from his temples, traces his wrinkled forehead with her fingertip. This seems to take him by surprise, and he freezes, concerned eyes darting to hers.

He says a few words, murmurs something that sounds a lot like her name, then fastens his lips to hers, moving with renewed fervor.

Eirin lets out a sigh of relief. This language she can understand.

Sharp teeth sinks into her bottom lip, blood sliding down her throat, and she welcomes it, drinking deep. One hand finds her nipple and pinches, the other pulling her to him—up and then up—almost as if he wanted to marry his pelvis to hers.

She tries her best to keep up.

The bed frame slams against the wall in time with his movements. She rakes her nails down his back (he seems to like it when she does this) and he retaliates by pulling on her hair until her back arches for him.

He is whispering again. Pretty, sweet nothings. She only understands half of it.

Taking me so well I miss you love come with me please I—

So close. She’s so close.

Just a little more.

Relief comes in the form of his skilled fingers on her clit and then she’s unraveling.

Spurred by her pleasure, he pulls out of her, drawing a whimper from her lips. A moment to adjust is all she is granted before she feels the splash of his release against her skin, painting her from navel to collarbone. She scoops up his essence, places it into her mouth, then looks back at him to gauge his reaction.

Her pale friend seems content. At peace, even. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips in a rare departure from his usual aloof self.

Then it is gone as soon as it appears, replaced by a look of anguish.

Eirin doesn’t like when he has that look on his face, as if she had poked under his nails with a needle. She likes him best when he smiles mischievously at her as he moves down her body to lick a long stripe across her cunt. 

She tries not to complain. He brought her nice gifts—a petite woman with horns and a tail, a man with stubs for arms and a smaller, screeching human—for her to sink her claws into. And sink her claws she did, until the voices quieted down to a lulling whisper. If she were specially well-behaved, he would even join her.

He lays down on the mattress, chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath. Her heart fills with hope. Would he stay with her this time? She is almost ashamed to admit that she sleeps better when he is around, her dreams less populated by shadows.

She isn’t so lucky.

Most days come and go in a blur.

There are days when her pale friend comes to visit her with a sad look in his eyes that makes her wonder if she would ever see him again. He tells her he will leave, that this is the last time. She will be in good hands, he reassures her, all her needs seem to. He always comes back.

Most of the time, he just watches her.

Watches her as she eats and sleeps and wills away the hours until she can do it all over again. Always with that inquisitive look on his face, as if she is on the verge of doing something unexpected. Even if the prize for his troubles is always more disappointment. Why he bothers, she doesn’t know.

He is there on the days when her hunger is too great and all she can think about is maiming and tearing and cutting and slicing… Those are the worst of days.

The few times she is allowed outside—at night, always at night—he dresses her in pretty clothes, all flowing skirts and elaborate headpieces, like the gallant ladies from the stories. She wears one of them right now, a purple hat with a plume on top. The feeling of the fabric against her skin is unpleasant and she wants nothing more than to tear it apart, but does her best to put up with it. Her worries are forgotten as soon as she sees the sky on the horizon, stepping over her skirts in her rush to get a better view. She leans over the palisade and throws a glance over her shoulder, but her pale friend seems to have his attention elsewhere.

He is beautiful like this, when the light hits his profile just right, ruby red eyes gleaming, his hair swaying in the gentle breeze. To look at him was painful sometimes, like staring at the sun for too long. He is facing the other way, busying himself with an object she doesn’t recognize.

“Do you remember this, darling? You kept it with you at all times,” he says, extending his hand towards her. “A favored gift, so to speak.”

He is using that cautious tone again, the one that usually precedes a long period of absence, so she indulges him.

The trinket in her hands is tiny and connected to a short silver chain. She doesn’t pretend to get the appeal of it. Not full of blood, not made to eat… Shiny and round, like a girl’s earring. At the center, a circle of numbers and a few black dots.

“This is…” she whispers.

There are letters engraved on the bottom. She recognizes a few of them: A E T E R N–

This is… wrong. Wrong.

Something nags at her brain, begging for her to remember. But remember what?

she…

she hurts

one thousand splinters worm their way into her heart. a feeling like nothing she had felt before. she tugs at her clothes, nails digging into her skin, the cloth suddenly too hot, too stifling.

Firm hands bend her arms behind her back and pull her against a wall. She doesn’t make things easy for him, fighting with all her strength, teeth and nails. In a matter of seconds, blood—not her own—begins to soak the front of her dress.

Never did she consider shredding her friend into pretty ribbons, like she did with the others. It was the only rule she abided by, the only line she wouldn’t cross. The idea alone made her gut clench and her eyes wet. But at that moment, that is the furthest thing from her mind. Her heart is about to burst out of her chest. Can’t he see? Why wouldn’t he just help her?

He presses a piece of cloth to her nose. She is too slow to push his hand away. Big inky blots appear at the corner of her vision, anger and confusion quickly morphing into a peaceful numbness.

A day or a week could have passed. There's no way to know for sure. Her dreams are a confusing mush of vivid memories and blood-curdling nightmares. Even awake, she has trouble distinguishing real from imaginary.

Her room is exactly as she remembers it, that much she can tell—with the familiar metal bars that divide her bed from the rest of the room—but her clothes were changed, and her hair was recently washed. A distinct floral scent wafts through the air. There's something else too, a touch of… bergamot? Whatever that is. She tries to lift her arm, but her hands are tied to the bedpost above her head. Strange, but not uncommon.

Her elf friend’s state, however, is a much bigger enigma. He is sitting on the edge of her bed, with his shirt off. At her stirring, he turns to look at her. There are scratches and bite marks all over his arms and chest, some reaching as far as his neck. They are fading now. Angry red giving way to pale pink.

"How are you feeling, darling?" His voice is hoarse, as if he's been screaming all day.

How is she feeling? That’s a curious question. He is the one covered in nicks and bruises. Nothing happened to her, as far as she remembers. She tries to tell him as much.

His eyes lose that wary edge and he moves closer to her, cradling her face with both hands. “I adore you, you know that, right? That will never change.”

She wishes she could respond in kind, but her head is still giving little somersaults. The best she can manage is to nod in agreement.

He sighs and moves his hand to wrap around the column of her neck. She gives him a tentative smile. His eyes harden.

The sudden constriction of her airways doesn’t give her immediate cause for concern. All she does is raise an eyebrow in silent question.

Seconds turn into minutes and she grows impatient, nudging him with the heel of her foot and then again, with more insistence. Speaking is out of the question, nothing comes out of her throat. His hands press harder.

Feeling something is definitely off, she tries to meet his gaze, knowing she is reaching her limit, but he is far, far away. Instinct kicks in. She pulls on the ropes, thrashing against him, using her free legs as leverage. But she is weakened, her body is weakened and she is fading…

He releases her all at once, sending her into a coughing fit.

When her ears stop buzzing, Eirin takes a brief look at him. His face is wet and so is hers. If anything, he looks even worse than her. He pulls her into a hug. She lets him.

Her friend rests his head in the crook where her head meets her shoulder, shaking from head to toe, and she places a comforting hand in the mess of his hair. In between sobs, she hears him ask for her forgiveness, over and over again.

“I don’t like this play,” she confides to him, voice rough like beach sand.

He lets out a sound halfway between a strangled laugh and a sob.

“Neither do I, sweetheart. Neither do I…”