#and then they push me to do the heavy lifting and power washing and i cant do that anymore bc of my bad back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

engeorged · 3 months ago

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The Bear and the Mountain

My life has always been defined by achievement. I sailed through university, completing a master’s degree in less than six months. I was confident in my intelligence and my looks—black hair, green eyes, and a constant carefully trimmed stubble that suited me. People often called me attractive, and I believed them, but I tried not to let it turn into arrogance. I just knew I had what it took to succeed.

After sailing through university, (I know I sound douchey but I’m just stating the facts) I launched a startup that took off almost immediately. In a few short years, I’d built it up and sold it for an eight-figure sum. I should have felt on top of the world, but instead, I felt empty. I had achieved everything I set out to do by the age of 27, yet something was missing. My life was a series of successes, but none of them brought me any meaning or satisfaction. Life was just a bit to easy.

In search of meaning, I tried everything. I spent time in Buddhist retreat lodges, seeking enlightenment through meditation. I pushed myself to the limits with extreme sports, hoping the adrenaline would fill the void. I even subjected myself to the intensity of sweat lodges, enduring the heat and discomfort in the hope of a breakthrough. Nothing worked. I was left more frustrated than ever.

Eventually, I decided to take a different approach—one that involved solitude and nature. I planned a solo trek through one of the most remote mountain ranges in the U.S., thinking that maybe the isolation would force me to confront whatever was missing in my life. The trek was challenging, but I was used to pushing myself. That was, until the seventh day, when everything changed. I was faced with a ravine and I definitely should have known better, but halfway up I slipped on a loose rock and tumbled to the bottom, breaking my leg badly and covering myself in deep cuts. I tried to move but I was trapped. I tried calling for help but I was literally in the arse end of nowhere. Stranded, in pain, and utterly alone, I realised just how precarious my situation had become.

After nearly a day of lying helpless, my hope dwindling with each passing hour, I heard heavy footsteps. Relief washed over me as a figure emerged from the dense forest. He was tall, powerfully built, and had a thick, bushy beard. There was something imposing about him, yet his presence calmed me. He introduced himself as Bear, and despite my dire circumstances, I couldn’t help but notice that beneath the wild exterior, he was remarkably handsome. His eyes, sharp and clear, held a depth that suggested he understood far more than he let on.

Bear turns out to be a man of very few words and after a few minutes of observing the situation and without a word, he lifted me onto his back as if I weighed nothing and began to carry me through the forest. I’m not gonna lie, it was actually pretty hot! The guy smelt so good too.

We arrived at his cabin, a beautiful structure powered by wind turbines and surrounded by the raw beauty of nature. Inside, the cabin was cozy and welcoming, filled with handmade furniture and intricate wood carvings. Bear set me down on a bed, and the exhaustion from the pain and stress overtook me; I passed out almost immediately.

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the room. It was rustic yet comfortable, with wooden beams running across the ceiling and a large stone fireplace on one wall. Soft, natural light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. The bed I lay in was firm but comfortable, and the smell of pine filled the air. But what truly stunned me was my leg. It was expertly set in a splint, immobilized with a level of precision that was astounding. My head and arms, too, had been carefully treated, stitched up with surgical skill. I traced the stitches on my head and arms with my fingers, marvelling at how neat they were. There was more to Bear than he was letting on.

Bear had not only saved my life but had done so with an expertise I hadn’t expected. The man who appeared so rugged and wild had the hands of a surgeon. I wanted to thank him, to ask him how he’d learned these skills, but when I looked around, Bear was nowhere to be found. Instead, next to the bed, there was a tray filled with food—a hearty stew, freshly baked bread, and fruits. My stomach growled, and though I was puzzled by Bear’s absence, I couldn’t resist the urge to eat.

As I ate, I couldn’t help but feel content. The food was incredible—rich, flavourful, and comforting in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Each bite seemed to melt away the tension I’d been carrying. The bread was warm and soft, perfect for soaking up the thick stew. The fruits were sweet and refreshing, a perfect complement to the savoury dishes.

Yet, as I savored the meal, something nagged at me. It was strange that Bear had disappeared so suddenly. I hadn’t heard him leave, and there was no indication of where he might have gone. Still, the cabin was secure, and the food brought me so much comfort that I pushed the thought aside. I was too content, too satisfied to worry about where Bear had gone or why he hadn’t said anything.

As the last bite of food settled in my stomach, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, heavier than anything I'd felt in days. The warmth of the cabin, combined with the fullness in my belly, made my eyelids droop uncontrollably. I didn’t fight it; the soft bed beneath me was too inviting. Within moments, I drifted off, my mind lulled into a deep sleep by the rhythmic crackling of the fire.

When I awoke, the room was bathed in the soft light of early evening, and the fire had been stoked back to life. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I saw him—Bear, standing near the foot of the bed, a tray of food in his hands. His presence, so solid and quiet, filled the space, and I felt a strange mix of relief and unease.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost like the sound of distant thunder. He set the tray on the small table beside the bed. The smell of warm, hearty food wafted up to me, making my stomach gurgle in anticipation, despite the fact that I had eaten only hours before.

“Yeah… a bit,” I replied, still groggy but slowly coming back to full awareness. I shifted slightly, wincing at the dull ache in my leg. It was then that I noticed Bear's gaze was softer than before, though just as unreadable. He was watching me closely, assessing my condition.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bear began, his tone even, as if he were discussing the weather. “With the way things are right now—snow, ice, unpredictable winds—there’s no safe way to get you out of here for at least six weeks, maybe more. The mountain’s too dangerous to navigate, even for me.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. Six weeks? I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I’d be here that long. But before I could react, Bear continued, his voice calm and reassuring.

“I know it’s not what you expected, but I’m happy for you to stay here with me until it’s safe to leave. You’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”

There was a certainty in his voice that made it hard to argue. Despite the odd circumstances and the isolation, something about Bear’s offer brought me a strange sense of comfort. The idea of staying here, under his care, didn’t seem so bad—especially after everything I’d been through so far. My leg throbbed again, a reminder of how helpless I was in this situation. Maybe, just maybe, staying wasn’t the worst option.

I glanced at the tray of food he’d brought—another generous helping, more than I thought I could manage. But the smell was intoxicating, and I found myself reaching for the fork without thinking.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, accepting both the food and the offer with a mix of apprehension and gratitude.

Bear gave a small nod, then turned to tend to the fire, his broad back facing me as he stoked the flames. I couldn’t see his face, but something in his posture told me he was at ease with the arrangement, perhaps even a little pleased. As I took the first bite of the new meal, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next six weeks would bring.

The days blended together as I continued to recover. Bear’s presence was elusive—he was rarely around when I was awake, but every time I stirred, there was more food waiting for me. It became a routine of sorts: I’d wake up to find a fresh meal by my bed, eat my fill, and drift back to sleep. I began to wonder if I was imagining him, but the expertly prepared food and the meticulous care I received were real enough.

Over time, I started noticing changes in my body. At first, it was subtle—my clothes began to feel snug, especially around the waist. I told myself it was just temporary, a result of being bedridden and inactive. But as the days passed, the changes became more apparent. My belly, once flat and firm, was now rounding out, pressing against the fabric of my shirt. It felt strange, yet I tried to convince myself that it was nothing to worry about. After all, I was healing, and once I was back on my feet, everything would return to normal.

Despite these thoughts, I couldn’t deny the pleasure I found in the food. Each meal was a masterpiece—perfectly seasoned meats, creamy potatoes, and desserts that were impossible to resist. I found myself looking forward to the meals, eagerly anticipating the next dish that would appear beside my bed. My appetite grew with each passing day, and with it, my belly grew too.

One evening, after another large meal, I decided to investigate. I ran my hands over my stomach, feeling the firmness of my belly beneath my skin. It was rounder, fuller than it had ever been before. The sensation was both unsettling and oddly comforting. I couldn’t deny that I was putting on weight, but I wasn’t ready to fully accept it either. It was easier to tell myself that it was just temporary, that it was a side effect of healing, and that soon I’d be back to my old self.

But deep down, I knew something was changing. The combination of solitude, indulgence, and the strange, almost mystical care I was receiving from Bear had set me on a different path—one that I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront just yet.

I woke up one morning feeling strangely energised. The routine of waking, eating, and sleeping had begun to feel monotonous, but today something was different. As I sat up in bed, I noticed something new at the foot of it—crutches. Handmade, with sturdy wood and comfortable grips, they were unmistakably Bear’s work. The craftsmanship was remarkable, each detail carefully considered, and I realised that Bear must have spent considerable time making them for me. I looked at the handles and saw a small family of carved bears catching tiny wooden salmon jumping from the curves of the crutches.

Excited by the prospect of moving around on my own again, I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My leg still ached, but the splint held firm, and with some effort, I managed to stand using the crutches. It felt good to be upright again, to be able to explore beyond the confines of the bed.

The cabin, as I saw it for the first time beyond my bed, was a work of art. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and paintings, depicting scenes of wildlife and nature. The furniture, all handcrafted, exuded warmth and comfort. There were shelves lined with books, maps, and various trinkets that spoke of a life lived in harmony with the wilderness. The fireplace crackled softly, filling the room with a gentle warmth.

As I hobbled around, taking in the surroundings, I couldn’t help but notice how my body felt heavier, more cumbersome. My belly, once flat and toned, now hung over the waistband of my pants, a soft and unfamiliar weight. I caught my reflection in a window and was startled by the sight. My midsection had undeniably thickened, the result of a week of indulgent eating and inactivity. The roundness of my stomach was undeniable, pressing against the fabric of my shirt in a way that felt foreign and uncomfortable.

I tried to push the realization aside, telling myself it was just temporary. But there was no denying the evidence. The steady supply of rich, hearty food had left its mark on me. I felt a pang of discomfort, not just physically but emotionally. I was a man who had always been in control, and now, control seemed to be slipping away.

As I explored the cabin, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was a strange sensation, as though Bear was there, observing me, but I couldn’t see him. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I turned to look around, but the cabin appeared empty. Still, the feeling persisted, a silent presence that was both comforting and unnerving.

Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen. It was as beautifully crafted as the rest of the cabin, with a large wooden table at its center. To my surprise, Bear was there, standing by the stove. His back was to me, but I could see the muscles in his broad shoulders working as he stirred something in a pot. The aroma that filled the room was mouthwatering, a rich blend of spices and roasting meat.

This was the only the fourth time I’d seen Bear since he rescued me. He was still the same imposing figure, tall and powerful, his beard thick and wild. But there was a gentleness in the way he moved, a careful precision as he prepared the meal. I watched him for a few moments, marveling at how effortlessly he commanded the space, how naturally he seemed to belong here.

Bear turned slightly, and for the briefest moment, our eyes met. There was something in his gaze that I couldn’t quite place—an intensity, a quiet watchfulness. He nodded toward the table, indicating that I should sit. I obeyed, lowering myself into one of the chairs, the crutches propped beside me.

Bear brought the food to the table—a feast that made my mouth water just by looking at it. There were roasted vegetables, a thick stew brimming with chunks of meat, and freshly baked bread that was still warm from the oven. He served me generously, filling my plate to the brim, before sitting down across from me.

We ate together in silence, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against plates. The food was, as always, incredible. Each bite was a burst of flavor, and despite my earlier discomfort about my weight, I found myself eating with gusto. The food was just too good to resist.

As we ate, I felt Bear’s eyes on me, watching my every move. It was unsettling at first, but as the meal progressed, I began to feel something else—an unspoken connection between us. It was as if Bear was studying me, understanding me in ways that I hadn’t even begun to understand myself. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was charged, filled with an unspoken bond that was slowly forming between us.

By the time the meal was over, I was full to the point of bursting. My belly, already swollen, now pressed even more insistently against my shirt, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret the meal. Bear cleared the dishes with the same quiet efficiency, and as he worked, I realized that my feelings toward him were shifting. There was more to this man than I had initially thought, and I was beginning to feel drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected.

After the meal, Bear disappeared into another room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sat there, feeling the weight of the food in my stomach and the weight of the growing connection between us. Something was happening here, something I didn’t fully understand yet, but I knew it was important.

As I made my way back to bed, my belly heavy and full, I couldn’t help but wonder what the next days would bring. The cabin had become more than just a place of recovery—it was becoming a place of transformation. And Bear, the enigmatic man who had saved me, was at the centre of it all.

The days turned into weeks, and the cabin, once a place of temporary refuge, became my entire world. The outside world seemed distant, irrelevant, as I settled into this new rhythm of life. My leg was healing slowly, and with Bear’s crutches, I could move around more freely, though I still spent much of my time resting. But it wasn’t just my leg that was changing; my body was transforming in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Each morning, I’d wake up to the smell of something delicious wafting through the cabin. Bear’s cooking was exceptional, and I found myself eagerly anticipating each meal. There was always a generous spread—thick, savory stews, roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and rich, decadent desserts. The food was comfort itself, warm and filling, and I couldn’t help but indulge.

As I ate, I became increasingly aware of my body’s changes. My once-flat stomach had now grown round and heavy, a firm dome that swelled more with each meal. My shirts, which had fit me perfectly when I first arrived, were now stretched tight across my midsection, riding up to reveal a line of soft hair trailing down to my belly button. The waistband of my pants dug into my sides, leaving red marks on my skin, but still, I ate. I told myself it was just temporary, that I’d shed the weight once I was able to be more active, but deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.

I couldn’t deny the growing attraction I felt toward Bear. It was an attraction born not just from his rugged good looks or his self-sufficiency, but from something deeper, something about the way he carried himself. Bear was a man of few words, but his presence was commanding. There was an intensity to him, a quiet strength that I found irresistibly compelling. I began to crave his approval, his attention, though he never said much.

Bear watched me closely during our meals, his gaze intense and unreadable. At first, his silence made me uneasy, but as time went on, I began to interpret it as a form of attention, a sign that he was observing me, even if he wasn’t speaking. I found myself wanting to impress him, to catch his eye in some way. I started to eat more, pushing myself to finish every last bite, hoping that he would notice.

In those moments, I felt a strange satisfaction as my belly grew fuller and rounder. There was something about Bear’s quiet attention that made me want to show off, to prove something to him, though I wasn’t entirely sure what. I’d stretch after a meal, subtly arching my back to accentuate the curve of my stomach, hoping he’d see how much I had eaten, how much I had grown.

It became a game of sorts—an unspoken challenge between us. I’d eat until I was uncomfortably full, then stretch or shift in my chair, allowing my shirt to ride up and expose my swollen belly. Each time I did, I could feel Bear’s eyes on me, though he never commented. The tension between us grew with each passing day, and I found myself increasingly drawn to him, eager to elicit a reaction, even if it was just a lingering glance.

One evening, after several weeks of this routine, Bear prepared an especially large feast. The table was laden with food—platters of roasted poultry, glazed hams, bowls of mashed sweet potatoes swimming in gravy, freshly baked rolls, and a massive apple pie that filled the cabin with its sweet, spiced aroma. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as I sat down, the sheer amount of food both daunting and thrilling.

As we began to eat, I could feel Bear’s eyes on me, watching as I loaded my plate with more food than I thought I could handle. I dug in with enthusiasm, the flavors rich and satisfying. The chicken was tender and juicy, the potatoes smooth and buttery, and the rolls practically melted in my mouth. I ate and ate, determined to finish everything on my plate and then some.

With each bite, my belly expanded, pressing harder against the confines of my clothes. I could feel the tightness increasing, the fabric straining as I continued to eat. I was full—painfully so—but I kept going, motivated by the silent presence of Bear across the table. I wanted him to see how much I could eat, how much I could take in, how much I was willing to grow for him.

When I finally couldn’t eat another bite, I leaned back in my chair, my stomach round and bloated, pressing up against the edge of the table. My shirt had ridden up completely, exposing the full expanse of my swollen, hairy belly. I stretched my arms overhead, feigning a casual movement, but really I wanted Bear to see—to take notice of the way my belly jutted out, heavy and full.

Bear’s eyes were on me, his gaze intense as ever. He didn’t say a word, but the way he looked at me, I knew he was watching, taking in every detail. I held his gaze for a moment, my heart pounding, then slowly lowered my arms and settled back into my seat, feeling the weight of my bloated belly resting on my thighs.

Bear remained silent, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made me think he understood. He got up slowly, clearing the table as he always did, and though we didn’t speak, I felt as if something had shifted between us—an unspoken understanding that this was about more than just food.

As I made my way back to bed that night, my belly aching from the sheer volume of food, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I had pushed myself to the limit, and though Bear hadn’t said anything, I knew he had noticed. That silent connection, the way he watched without speaking, was enough to keep me going, to keep me wanting more.

A few days later and after a particularly heavy lunch, I felt the familiar pull of sleep. My belly was stuffed to capacity, swollen and heavy from yet another feast, and I couldn’t resist the lure of an afternoon nap. I made my way back to bed, sinking into the soft mattress, my body surrendering to the weight of the meal and the warmth of the cabin. As I drifted off, the last thing I thought about was Bear—his quiet presence, his intense gaze, and the way he watched over me without saying a word.

I woke up a few hours later, the sun hanging lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. My stomach still felt heavy, the remnants of the meal sitting comfortably in my gut. I stretched slowly, wincing slightly at the tightness in my midsection, before sitting up and realizing that the cabin was unusually quiet. Normally, I would have heard Bear moving around, cooking or working on something. But today, there was nothing—just the sound of the wind outside and the crackling of the fire.

Curious, I decided to get up and look for him. Using the crutches Bear had made for me, I carefully made my way down the stairs and into the main room, but there was no sign of him. The kitchen was empty, the stove cold. It was strange—I had grown so accustomed to his presence, to the idea that he was always somewhere nearby, that his absence felt almost unsettling.

I wandered around the cabin, checking the other rooms, but still, there was no sign of Bear. Finally, I decided to venture outside. The late afternoon sun bathed the clearing in a warm, golden light, the air crisp and fresh. I felt a slight chill as I stepped out onto the porch, the cool breeze brushing through the holes made by the buttons on my shirt as my protruding stomach pushed them out.

That’s when I saw him.

Bear was standing in the clearing, a few yards away from the cabin, chopping wood. He had taken his plaid shirt off leaving his torso fully exposed and I was not disappointed. His broad, muscular back glistened with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the sunlight. His powerful arms, thick with muscle, moved with precision as he swung the axe, the blade slicing cleanly through the logs with effortless power. Each movement was fluid, controlled—his body a study in strength and grace.

I stood there, transfixed by the sight of him. Bear was a man of imposing size, and seeing him like this, shirtless and in his element, made him seem even more formidable. His chest was broad and thick, covered in a mat of dark hair that trailed down to his stomach, which was flat and defined, a stark contrast to my own soft, rounded belly. His biceps bulged with each swing, his forearms corded with veins as he gripped the axe handle.

His entire physique was the embodiment of raw, primal strength—his torso a canvas of hard muscle, honed by years of living off the land, working with his hands, and surviving in the wilderness. There was no doubt that this was a man who had mastered his environment, who thrived in the harshest conditions. His beard, thick and wild, only added to the ruggedness of his appearance, framing his strong jaw and emphasizing the sharpness of his features.

But it wasn’t just his physical power that captivated me; it was the way he moved, the way he seemed so utterly in control of everything around him. There was a quiet intensity in his movements, a confidence that came from knowing his own strength. It was mesmerizing to watch.

As I stood there, watching him work, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. There was admiration, certainly—how could anyone not admire such a powerful figure? But there was something more, something deeper. I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected, an attraction that went beyond the physical. It was the combination of his strength, his self-sufficiency, and the quiet way he cared for me, even as he kept his distance.

Bear hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a moment, I considered going back inside, letting him continue his work undisturbed. But something kept me rooted to the spot, a need to stay, to watch, to be near him. I took a few steps forward, careful to be quiet, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

As I moved closer, I could see the details more clearly—the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each swing, the droplets of sweat that slid down his chest, the rise and fall of his breath. There was something almost hypnotic about the rhythm of his movements, a primal energy that seemed to pulse in the air between us.

Finally, as if sensing my presence, Bear paused in his work. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. His gaze was intense, penetrating, as if he could see right through me, straight to the thoughts and feelings I tried so hard to keep hidden.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. My shirt was stretched tight across my belly, the fabric straining to contain the fullness that had developed over the past weeks. Compared to Bear, I felt soft, weak, but the way he looked at me made it clear that he saw more than just my physical appearance.

Bear didn’t say anything—he never did—but there was something in his eyes, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection that had been growing between us. He nodded once, a small gesture, before turning back to his work. I watched as he resumed chopping wood, the moment passing, but the feelings it stirred in me lingering long after.

I stood there for a while longer, letting the sight of him burn into my memory, before finally turning to go back inside. As I walked back to the cabin, my heart was pounding in my chest, a mixture of excitement and something else—something deeper, more profound, that I wasn’t quite ready to name.

The following morning, light filtered softly through the cabin windows, casting a golden glow over everything. I had become accustomed to waking up this way—slowly, with the warmth of the fire in the hearth and the smell of breakfast already beginning to waft from the kitchen. But today, something was different. There was a heaviness in the air, a tension I couldn’t quite place. Bear had been quiet, more so than usual, and as I made my way downstairs on my crutches, I found him standing by the door, staring out into the clearing.

I hesitated, feeling a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. “Good morning,” I said softly, trying to read his expression. He didn’t turn to look at me, just kept his gaze fixed on something far in the distance.

“The weather’s changing,” Bear said finally, his voice low and rough. “Conditions will be good for travel soon. The day after tomorrow, I can take you back down the mountain.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew this day would come, but hearing it out loud felt like the ground was shifting beneath me. I had been so consumed by the strange, quiet life we had built here that I hadn’t fully considered what it would mean to leave. To go back to my old life, to a world that now felt distant and unimportant.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil I felt inside. “That’s… great,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded hollow, even to me.

Bear finally turned to look at me, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, I searched his face for any hint of what he might be feeling—relief, sadness, anything—but there was nothing. He was as stoic as ever, his expression giving nothing away.

“Is that what you want?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I immediately regretted it, feeling foolish for needing reassurance, for wanting to know if he wanted me to stay as much as I suddenly realized I wanted to.

Bear��s gaze lingered on me, his eyes glistening in the low light. But he didn’t answer, just gave a slight nod as if the decision had already been made. Then, as if the conversation hadn’t happened, he turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, feeling lost and dismayed.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, trying to process what was happening. The idea of leaving, of going back to a life that felt meaningless in comparison to what I had found here, filled me with a deep sense of loss. But even more than that, I was confused by Bear’s reaction. Did he want me to stay? Did he feel anything for me at all? The thought of leaving without knowing the answer gnawed at me.

That night, as I lay in bed, my mind raced. I couldn’t just leave like this, not without some sign, some acknowledgment of what had been growing between us. An idea began to form in my mind, reckless and desperate, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. If words weren’t going to get through to Bear, maybe actions would. Maybe if I pushed myself, showed him how much I was willing to do, I could finally get him to react.

I decided that the next day would be my last chance, and I would make the most of it. I would eat as much as I possibly could, more than ever before, until there was no way Bear could ignore me. Until he had to acknowledge what was happening between us.

The next morning, I woke with a sense of determination. I had a plan, and I was going to see it through, no matter what. When I made my way downstairs, Bear was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh pancakes filled the air, and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Bear glanced at me briefly, his face as blank as ever. I could tell he sensed something was different, but he didn’t say anything. He just placed a plate in front of me, piled high with food—eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and pancakes dripping with syrup. It was a feast in itself, more than I would normally eat in a day back home, but this was just the beginning.

I dug in, eating with more enthusiasm than I had in weeks. The food was as delicious as always, each bite rich and satisfying. I ate quickly, shoveling food into my mouth as fast as I could, determined to finish everything on my plate. My stomach started to fill up, the familiar tightness building in my midsection, but I didn’t slow down. I kept going, piling more food onto my fork, swallowing each bite with determination.

Bear didn’t say a word as I ate, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed, concerned, or something else entirely, but it didn’t matter. I had committed to this, and I was going to see it through.

When I finally finished, my stomach was already distended, pressing against the waistband of my pants. But I wasn’t done. I pushed my plate forward, giving Bear a determined look.

“More,” I said, my voice firm despite the fullness in my belly.

Bear raised an eyebrow but complied without a word. He piled more food onto my plate, another helping of everything, and I started again. This time, each bite was harder to take, the food sitting heavily in my gut, but I didn’t let that stop me. I could feel my belly swelling, the fabric of my shirt stretching tight, but I kept eating, determined to show Bear just how much I could take.

When breakfast was finally over, I was stuffed beyond belief. My belly was round and bloated, pushing out so far that it felt like I could burst, but I also felt a strange sense of pride. I had done it. I had eaten more than I ever thought possible, and I wasn’t finished yet.

I spent the rest of the morning resting on the couch, letting my stomach settle, knowing that lunch would be just as big a challenge. Bear kept his distance, but I could feel his eyes on me every so often, as if he was checking to see how I was doing.

Lunch came all too quickly. This time, Bear served up a spread of sandwiches, thick slices of bread stuffed with meat, cheese, and vegetables, along with a side of crispy fries. My stomach was still heavy from breakfast, but I didn’t let that deter me. I attacked the food with the same determination, forcing myself to eat every last bite, despite the growing discomfort.

With each bite, my stomach expanded further, the tightness in my belly increasing until it was almost unbearable. I could feel my shirt riding up, exposing the swollen curve of my gut, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was eating more, showing Bear just how much I could take.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was in a daze. My stomach was so full and heavy that I could barely move, but I knew this was my last chance. Bear had outdone himself for dinner—roast boar, roasted potatoes and vegetables gravy, rolls, pies and a huge chocolate and custard brioche for dessert. The table was groaning under the weight of the food, and I knew I had to finish it all.

I ate slowly this time, savoring each bite, even as my stomach protested. I could feel every inch of my belly stretching, the skin taut and aching, but I kept going. Bear sat across from me, silent as always, but I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I finished the last bite of cake. I leaned back in my chair, my belly so full and distended that I could hardly breathe. My shirt had ridden up completely, leaving my swollen belly exposed, round and taut like a drum. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my thighs, the skin stretched so tight that it felt like I might split open.

Bear stood up slowly, his gaze fixed on my bloated stomach. He walked around the table and stood in front of me, his expression unreadable. My heart was pounding in my chest, a mix of fear and anticipation, but I didn’t say anything. I just looked up at him, waiting.

Then, without a word, Bear reached down and placed a hand on my belly. His touch was firm but gentle, his fingers pressing into the firm, swollen flesh. I sucked in a breath, the sensation of his hand on my overstuffed stomach sending a shiver through me.

Bear didn’t speak, didn’t ask if I was okay. He simply took a piece of leftover bread, slathered with butter, and brought it to my lips. Without thinking, I opened my mouth, letting him feed me, my body responding to his command. He pushed the bread into my mouth, his fingers brushing against my lips as he did, and I chewed slowly, feeling the food settle heavily on top of everything else.

But Bear wasn’t done. He kept feeding me all the leftovers he could get his hands on, piece after piece, each one pushing me further beyond my limits. My belly was so full that I could feel it pressing against the table, the skin stretched so tight that it ached with every breath. But I kept eating, swallowing every bite he offered, my body trembling with the effort.

is eyes never left mine as he continued to feed me, each spoonful a slow, deliberate act. My belly, swollen and heavy, lay like a massive weight on my torso. I could feel every inch of it, tight and firm, my skin stretched to its limit. I shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but it only made me more aware of just how full I was. Yet, despite the discomfort, or maybe because of it, I found myself craving more.

Finally, when I thought I couldn’t take another bite, Bear set the spoon down. His hand moved to my belly, resting on the roundness of it, his fingers splayed across the taut skin. I inhaled sharply at the touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against the coolness of my overstretched stomach. He didn’t say anything, just traced his fingers over the curve of my belly, as if admiring his work. The sensation sent a shiver through me, a mix of pleasure and something deeper, more primal.

Without a word, he helped me to my feet, guiding me outside into the crisp night air. The sky was clear, the stars bright and endless above us. I felt the cold against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that radiated from my overstuffed belly. We lay down on the soft blankets he had spread out, my belly rising like a small hill between us. I could hardly move, every breath a reminder of how full I was, but I didn’t care. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Bear settled beside me, his arm draped over my swollen stomach, his touch reassuring and solid. The night was quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire inside the cabin and the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing. As we lay there under the stars, the night stretched out before us, endless and full of possibilities.

I thought back to how I had ended up here—how the search for something more had led me to this remote mountain, to this man, and ultimately, to myself. I had sought out the wilderness to challenge myself, to find meaning in my achievements and push my boundaries. But in the end, it wasn’t the extreme sports or the spiritual retreats that had given me what I was looking for. It was this—lying under the stars, my belly stuffed to the max, feeling the warmth of Bear’s body beside me.

I had found something here, something I hadn’t known I was searching for. Not just in Bear, but in the quiet, unspoken connection we shared, in the way he had cared for me, fed me, pushed me to my limits in a way I hadn’t expected. I had found a peace I didn’t know I needed, a contentment that came from letting go of control and simply being.

As the stars twinkled above us, I let out a slow, satisfied breath, feeling the weight of my belly press down against me, grounding me. I had come to the mountains looking for something, and I had found it, even if it wasn’t in the way I had imagined. And as sleep began to take hold, I realized that I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

#gainer fiction #belly expansion #gay gainer #male gaining #stuffing #belly fiction #gainer stories #gainer story #stuffing art

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whore4gwen · 10 months ago

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MIRROR｡･ﾟ･ Larissa Weems x Fem!reader

Tags: t (L), b (R), begging kink, mommy kink, slight dumbification kink, mirror sex, praise kink, pet names, explicit language, orgasm denial, overstimulation, age gap (legal), smut w/o plot, good girl kink, and aftercare.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

. .

“Beg." Larissa smirked. "please... please mommy i'll be good I promise." You whimpered.

Larissa giggled, not a single thought behind those big beautiful eyes, nothing other than her.

She lifted her hand, slowly, pushing a sweaty hair from your forehead. "Good girl." Larissa cooed gently, a hint of mockery in her voice.

You turned your head, blushing a deep crimson and clenched your sore thighs together.

She knew what she was doing to you and she loved it, craved it almost. Nothing turned Larissa on more than seeing you all submissive and obedient, like the good girl she knew you to be.

"You can wait a little longer can't you? Can you do that for mommy, my sweet girl?" Larissa asked in fake pity.

Without hesitation, you nodded your head. Larissa smiled, her good girl, all for her.

Larissa turned around and walked over to a full body mirror and sat on a leather chair. " Come here my love." She spoke gently, as she patted her lap.

You hurriedly walked over to Larissa and sat on her lap, excitedly awaiting her next command.

Larissa wrapped her arms around your thighs, spreading them and revealing your glistening core.

"Watch." Larissa whispered, as she licked the shell of your ear. "If you turn away I'll stop, and we'll have to re start, do you understand?" Larissa asked, making eye contact through the mirror.

You nodded your head vigorously, not daring to break contact. "Use your words, darling." She added, as she swatted your left thigh. "Y-yes mommy." You trembled with anticipation.

Your eyes immediately looked down when you feel a bolt of electricity on your clit. A staggered moan erupts from your chest at Larissa's already bruising pace.

"F-faster!" You stammer out chocking on moans.

Larissa smirks as she complies with your request, and adds two fingers. "How does that feel, dear?" Larissa asks teasingly. "Good, so so fucking good." You moaned as Larissa sped up and applied more pressure of your throbbing clit.

Larissa planted small kisses up and down your neck, leaving a fresh trial of hickeys. She raised her other hand, palming your left breast and began rolling your nipple between the pads of her fingers.

"I- I'm going to- to cum!" You shouted as you threw your head back on Larissa's shoulder.

"Not yet darling, I need you to wait a little longer." Larissa mumbled as she went back to attacking your already bruised neck.

"Mommy, please." You begged, feeling the coil in your stomach tighten. "You can do it, my love." Larissa encouraged, not showing any signs of stopping or slowing down.

Loud moans filled Larissa's ears, as you hung on for dear life, doing everything in your power to hold the sweet release you so desperately needed.

"Almost there." She muttered.

Your breaths were ragged as your legs began to shake. Larissa smirked evilly, as she watched your poor already spent body spasm out.

"Cum for me, darling." Larissa said, finally giving in. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm washed over you. You were on cloud nine as your body shook more violently.

Larissa helped you ride out your orgasm and gently pulled out when you had finally calmed.

Your breathing was heavy and irregular as you were still feeling the aftershocks. Larissa pulled you closer as she help your sweaty body.

"You did so good for mommy, you're such a good girl." She praised as she kissed your sticky forehead. Larissa picked you up and stood from the chair and placed you onto the bed.

She went to the bathroom and returned with a washcloth. Larissa's soft humming was the last sound you heard before you were engulfed by a much needed rest.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems smut #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #smut warning #larissa x reader #principal weems #gwendoline christie is so mfing fine #wlw fanfic #im sry #mirror #larissa

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fortheb0ys · 8 months ago

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I LOVE OLD MEN IN BRACES🙏 JEFF WOULD LOOK SO PRETTY IN THEM! Not my best work but I'll fix it later:)

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

Jeff sat on his knees, a pout on his face and an avoidance of eye contact. He mindlessly played with his fingers. Even though he looking everywhere but you, he could feel your heavy gaze weigh on him.

You stood tall and dominant over him. He felt small compared to you. Maybe that's what turned Jeff on so much. Just sitting there under your lustful eyes, his dick painfully hard in the confines of his jeans. The toes of your shoes pressing slightly down on his bulge. Jeff felt like he could cum at any second.

"Aw bady, don't be so shy. Give me a smile. Let's see how pretty you are with your new addition." You press down harder on his cock. Jeff chokes out a small moan, holding with every ounce of will power not in cum in his jeans. He was feeling all new sorts of things that he definitely didn't never felt before.

Jeff looked up, tears welling up in his eyes and gave you the best toothy grin he could muster. His shiny new braces on display. He looked absolutely adorable.

"Please."

He was imaging what he look like in the state he was in. A pitiful man sitting kneeling at the feet of another, begging for any touch. If it was anyone but you, he would have ran and hide in the farthest corner of the earth.

"Please what, doll?" You give Jeff a smile matching his own. A slight mocking in your tone.

Jeff snaps his eyes shut, feeling your eyes burn deep at him. He's trying with every fiber of his being to not moan out his pleas.

"I-I want you in my mouth...please." Jeff moaned out his final word.

"There ya go, good boy."

Jeff felt his mouth water as you undo your pants. You weren't going to tease farther, he asked politely.

A sign leaves your mouth as relief washes over as you pull out your cock. By the looks of it, you were enjoying Jeff's pitiful sight. This wasn't a new thing for the two of you. Jeff's favorite thing was to be knelt in front of you, taking completely your cock. It's heavy weight on your tongue. His mouth watering at the thought of having that happen so soon.

Now adding to the thrill was Jeff's new braces. My smile slightly innocent.

You guide your cock to his closed lips, giving them a couple taps before lifting his top lip slightly. He looked like a growling dog as someone withheld a treat.

"Open up, doll."

Jeff hesitates no farther, mouth open before you could finish your request. You follow just as quickly to guide your swollen member into his mouth. He leaves a few licks against the tip before taking you as much as him could.

A muffled moan leaves Jeff's mouth. The vibrations send shivers down your spine. Jeff suddenly jumps as your foot begins to rub against the tent in his pants.

Jeff hallows out his cheeks and being sucking more frantically. Licking long strips on the underside of your cock. The veins tracing on his tongue.

Grunts slip your mouth. Your toes dig deeper into his pants. Jeff pushes forward to the grinding pleasure. A wet spot begins to soak through the front of his pants.

Jeff tugs at your pants to get your attention. You lock eyes and understand the plea behind. He wants you to go faster. To go harder. You know he can take everything like a champ.

You begin to thrust into his mouth at a bruising pace. Jeff chokes on the intrusion, spit begins to slip past the corner of his lips. Jeff enhales a deep breath through his nose and relaxes his throat to take you farther.

"Doing so good, doll. I don't think I can last much longer." Jeff can taste your precum as you give him the warning.

Your hand finds it's way to his top lip, lifting it up to run your fingers against his braces. It'd be such a shame for the removal. You'd have to take a picture as material for masturbating. It was the perfect sight.

Jeff is determined to stay focused at the task at hand, brow frowned. His knees started to ache and will definitely continue to the following day. His voice will surely be hoarse, He'd have to get someone else on sales duty. Or maybe he'd just call in and have you fuck him till the early hours of the morning.

Jeff seemed drift farther into his daze, mindlessly taking everything you gave him. Sex always made him feel fuzzy. The aches were worth it.

A gentle slap on his cheek brought him back to reality.

"Wanna cum with me, Angel?"

Jeff gave the best nod he could with your cock still down his throat. You thrust hard and fast, not letting up to let him breathe properly. Jeff groaned, lungs crying for air. His eyes rolling to the back of his head. You give a few more hard grinds against his cock and cums, his pants now completely dirty.

You'll pull out just enough till so just the tip rests at the front of his teeth. A few more tags, you cum. White painting his teeth but most of had fallen down his chin to drip down the neck of his collar.

Loud panting filled the silence space. Jeff looks like he's about to pass out.

"Such a good boy." You praise him once you've caught your breath.

With the last bit of his energy he could muster, Jeff gives you another smile. His shiny braces now covered in a sticky white. He'd have to get used to washing your seed out of his braces cause he knew this wasn't going to be the last time that he'd find them dirty in the same manner.

#JEFF BRAINROT #jeff sadecki #jeff sadecki x reader #jeff sadecki x male reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #sub character

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nisuna · 8 months ago

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I got super inspired last night, so here's a short drabble about the smut adventures of cult leader!geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader let's goo

I have more planned along the lines of: First time sleeping with him; Public sex in front of his followers; Making you call him by his First Name during sex; Saying I love you during sex; things I have mentioned in my headcannon post (I might do a poll for the next chapter 🙈)

Feel free to check out the headcannons for this AU for more context! (part 2 here!!)

TW: heavy nipple play; nipple sucking, biting, pinching; manipulative geto, short non-con, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual orgasm, FIRST KISS, trust issues, crying, he calls you "pet", power imbalance; cult leader!Geto x non-sorcerer!f!reader

<3masterlist<3

-----------1.2k words; strictly 18+ MDNI--------------

"Geto-samaaa... I need a break today. Please, no more.", you huffed in his arms. Your hips and back were starting to hurt from the countless nights that you've been spending with him.

"What do you mean, pet? Have I overworked you? Oh poor you. But there has to be something I can do to satisfy myself. Tell me, what activity do you enjoy that doesn't involve my cock?"

You felt stumped, but something did come to mind. "Che..."

"Hm? What was that, pet? You need to speak up.", he demanded, looking at you expectedly.

"Chest.", your timid voice broke the silence. "I like it when you play with my chest Geto-sama."

After hearing the words leave your mouth, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

"Good job. Look at you speaking your mind. Such a good pet. Well then, get ready.", he cooed, loosening the knot on your robe. "Tonight, I'm going to town on your chest. Nothing more, nothing less. I promise."

He didn't lie when he said he would go to town, because that's exactly what's been happening for the last half hour. You were on all fours above him while his hungry mouth was sucking in your right nipple. Much to your dismay, however, he was paying attention to the right one ONLY. And at this point, you were getting impatient.

"Mmh whyy~", you mewled.

That caught his attention as he unlatched his mouth from your sensitive nub.

"What is it, pet? You don't like it? That can't be, you were the one who suggested this in the first place. I can practically feel you dripping all over me."

"It's not that...", you mumbled, turning your head, because you didn't have the guts to face him right now.

"What is it then? You have to speak your mind. How elese am I supposed to know if I'm doing something you don't like, hm?"

You sucked in a deep brath and squeaked. "The.. the other one..."

"Hm? Come again?", he cocked an eyebrow, putting his fingers on your chin, finally making you look at him.

"The other one...why do you only play with the right one. What about the left?", you mumbled trailing off.

His mind went ding as he smiled up at you. "Oooh your other one wants attention as well, hm? Why didn't you say so? I'm more than happy to oblige." He hummed caressing your cheek with his large palm.

"However, that service comes at a price."

"What do you-?"

"You have to put in a quarter to play."

"A what? I don't think im following Geto-sama..."

"Oh my dumb little pet. I'm talking about this, of course.", he smiled while sliding his exposed cock through your wet folds.

"Mh- no you said we wouldn't do that today!", you tried your best not to succumb to temptation.

"Just the tip, pet. I promise. Do that for me and I'll suck on your tits all night long.", the way his deep and smooth voice rolled off his tongue like honey made you weak.

How could you say no to such an offer. He wouldn't lie to you right? Geto-sama was a man of his word, you can trust him.

So you reluctantly nodded your head yes and began lifting your hips. He was quick to grab you by your hips and push into you. As promised, he didn't go deep and stopped immediately. You felt relief wash over your body as you tried your best to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

You let out a few huffs before finally discarding your robe, saying. "Mhh, I did my part of the deal. Now's your turn...AH-", as you were about to press your left tit against his mouth, he bottomed out, making you whine his name.

"Geto samaaa noo, you promised we wouldn't.. you.. you lied to me.", you sobbed, digging your nails into his exposed chest. The tears collecting in your eyes almost made him pity you. Almost.

"I'll continue pampering you, don't worry, this is just a quick detour."

You had no energy to defend yourself in his tight grasp, so you let him bully his fat cock into your tight little hole without protest.

After a few thrusts, he sat up, keeping you on his lap and finally fulfilled his part of the deal. His tongue darted out to your neglected left nipple while he pinched your right one between his long fingers. His hips kept rocking up into you while his hungry eyes kept looking up at you all throughout his ministrations.

Your tears of disappointment soon turned into tears of pleasure as you started losing yourself in his grasp. It was when he started to stimulate your puffy clit as well that your mind went blank. The expressions you were making were so nasty, that they soon pushed him over the edge as well.

It was the first time both of you came at the same time and it was understandable that you lost your mind at the intense feeling. It was when he kept fucking you through your high that you lost your sense of self and didn't notice that you grabbed onto his face and pushed your lips against his. Your mouth fell open as a needy moan left your mouth at the feeling of getting filled to the brim. You were so out of it that you didn't notice his eyes shoot open and hands halt all movement.

This was the first time you two ever kissed. Cult leader geto always saw sex as an act of service and obedience. Never once has he thought about kissing someone like you. He talked you through it and prohibited you from ever trying, or else...

Your eyes shot open as well at the lack of reaction and you almost had a heart attack at the realisation of what you have just done.

You were beyond terrified, immediately pulling away and shivering at the sight of his blank expression and his sharp eyes burning holes into you.

You began trembling in his tight grasp as your next words came tumbling out. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Geto-sama, please forgive me-", you sobbed.

As you were about to pull your hands away from his face, he stopped you. You were petrified, expecting the worst. But to your surprise you didn't feel a punishment come your way. Instead, you felt him press his lips against yours and holding your hand in place on his cheek. The kiss was hungry, his tongue prying your mouth open and all you could do was moan and just take it. When he finally pulled away, you didn't dare speak, blinking at him with fear evident in your eyes. Your confusion only grew when you heard him let out a chuckle.

"You surprised me for sure, pet. But let's continue, I quite liked it.", he mumbled.

You nodded, letting out the breath you were holding as you closed your eyes and puckered your lips. While you were making out, you felt him harden inside of you again. This was going to be a long night, after all.

From then on out each time he crashed his lips against yours and made you cream on his cock over and over he thought "fuck it" abandoning his principles. All because of you.

----

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#geto smut #geto x reader #suguru smut #suguru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles #takes with nini♡#jjk fanfic #nini's takes♡#jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader

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fashionteahouse · 1 month ago

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out of your league - paul x reader

AN: The first 3 parts of this story has gotten love and I just wanted to say I appreciate all of you guys 💜 xoxo!

He didn’t want to let you go.

You step out of the embrace, his expression is heartsick. He watched you the entire way as you make your way inside of your house.

When you’re in your house, denial sets in. You choose not to recap your day in your head, at dinner, as you wash the dishes, and even as you did your art.

You tried to sleep it off, feeling uneasy. You started to feel weird. As you lie down, you kept twisting and turning. At times you had to sit up, a part of your chest was hurting. It was dull but as the night grew old, it would gradually get stronger. You tried to drink water but it seemed like you couldn’t sleep, it felt uncomfortable.

You start to get angry. You wonder if this was because of Paul. Even though you had a peek into his lifestyle, he was still an enigma.

You push your covers back relentlessly and flick your lamp on. You sit at your art space and just go to town. Materials glide the thick paper, creating a portrait of what you saw today. You even recreate the earthy meadow that you were surrounded by you. You just couldn’t understand how a human could just transform into a wolf like that. Eyes heavy, you take a look back and admire your hard work.

The colors are vibrant and sucks you in. You could never forget the beautiful dark silvery fur. The way the wolf just screamed powerful. It screamed strength. It had all of the qualities to protect someone.

You wake up and the sun hit your eyes harshly. You blink a couple times and lift your face that was previously smushed in your bed. You look around until you receive a random notification on your phone and you catch the time. It’s way past the time for you to wake up. So late, you already missed a class or two.

You’re too tired to try to go to school. You just couldn’t do it after the night that you had. The pang in your chest is there but not as strong. You close your eyes but before you could drift, a semi long vibration shakes that makes you check it out.

“Im picking you up after school.”

It was from Paul.

You’re a bit more awake. You weren’t ready to see him yet, but you didn’t want him to arrive to the school for nothing. You quickly text back.

“Im not at school.”

He responds right away.

“Damn did hell freeze over ?”

You put your phone faced down and turn over to the over side. You retry your attempt to rest your eyes. You hear a knock at your front door. The house was silent, nobody home but you. The knocks repeat but are now more rapid. You groan internally and make your way downstairs and you fling the door open and freeze.

Paul walks in and makes himself feel at home. You close the door and whip around to follow his movements with your eyes. The events of yesterday is replaying in your mind.

“What?” he says as he sits on your couch and slumps back.

You were staring at him the whole time and you look down, feeling caught. You slowly walk to the other side of the couch. He’s watching you now.

“What?” you say to him now, his scent spreading to your nostrils and you wished, in that moment, you could bathe in it.

“What made you not go to school?”

You don’t say anything. You look anywhere but him. When you breathe in and breathe out, you noticed your chest has stopped hurting. Oddly, you feel somewhat at ease. He nudges you, which makes you look over and he chuckles, “Did you hear me?”

“I had a rough night.” You state with a hint of annoyance.

“Are you talking about…?” he asks.

You just shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” he says.

Your ears are now open. “How come?” you ask in a casual tone. You have a feeling why.

“Had a pain in my chest. I’m here and it stopped thankfully.”

You stand up and face him. You don’t care that right now you look as rough as your night.

“This…is a bit too much.” you say. He keeps his position. The only thing changing is his face, wearing a furrowed expression. You continue.

“I had the same pain in my chest. I know that it has something to do with the… imprint.” You were too scared to say the word because it made it seem real.

He moves his eyes from you face and stares down a bit. “You don’t have to accept it.”

You groan, a bit cranky from the lack of sleep, “Is there a way to just…not succumb?”

His eye contact now is hardened to match his brassy tone, “I was born into this. There’s nothing around it. You think this is something I had asked for? At least you have a choice.”

You roll your eyes. You’re now frustrated. You couldn’t help but wonder, what would’ve happened if you didn’t get involved with him in the first place. But, he said fate brought you two together in the first place. You didn’t know what this meant for the future.

“Pushing it away isn’t going to solve anything. You either accept it or you don’t.” he adds on with his arm now resting on the back edge of the couch.

”What if I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know..whether or not you want to deal with someone?”

Silence is the only reply. You yawn instead, covering your mouth, the action leaving your eyes watery.

“You know, you should sleep while I’m here.” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

You trudge up the stairs with him following and you turn to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of the tub, facing the closed door, to just get your mind process together. You felt if you did go to sleep, you wouldn’t be able to get the questions off of your brain. You wanted to know so much. After cleansing your teeth, you walk into your room to find Paul sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Does your dad know?” you couldn’t help but ask as you join him.

He shakes his head, “Left out of the house before I turned.”

More silence. He’s patient.

“Were we ever like…dating?” you ask in a small voice.

He looks at you seriously, “That’s what I thought…” he trails off, “I mean.. I don’t do stuff like that with girls I don’t date.” he adds with a small laugh.

“What will happen if…I…don’t?”

“Don’t what? Don’t accept it?” he asks with hurt that makes you regret the question instantly, but you just have to know. You nod, not trying to look at him in the eye.

“Well…I’ll still be here for you, because that would be the choice that would make you happy. I won’t hate you forever or anything like that.” he says quietly and looks at his hands.

”So..when we’re around each other, that’s what makes the pain go away?”

He nods. He then turns to you. “Y/N.”

You meet his eyes, he continues, “You were happy..with me..right? Before all of this supernatural stuff I mean.”

“I believe I was,” you then nod, “I was.”

You get comfortable in your bed, “I’m going to sleep now.”

He lays on the other side and stares at the ceiling. When you awake again, feeling refreshed, you’re surprised that he’s still there. He watches you look at him.

“Can I take you to meet someone?” He asks.

”Sure…who is it?”

“Someone who’s been helping me with all of this. He understands.”

You both rise.

He steps outside of the room while you get yourself together. You two walk hand in hand, the contact makes you feel warm inside. It was a bit lengthy but it was the perfect opportunity to ask him something.

“It’s just you and your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Mom not in the picture?” You then ask.

“No.” That’s all he says. It’s driving you crazy. He won’t go deeper. You spot a flower along the way. You pick it, examine it, and you give the capitulum flower to him. He slowly takes it and he genuinely admires it.

He guides you to a tiny house, that only had one narrow window beside the weathered blue door, but the window box under it was filled with bright orange and yellow marigolds, giving the place a cheerful look. He has a grip on your hand and raps on the door.

The door swings open and a man who looks years older than Paul, appears. He first glanced at Paul, then to you, then to your intertwined hands, then back at Paul.

“This is Sam. Sam this is Y/N.” Paul introduced.

Sam gives you a tight smile like he finally recognizes you and allow you two to enter his home. You both have a seat at his wooden table, still keeping a grip on Paul’s hand. Sam intimidated you in a way, you started to bounce your leg up and down due to your nerves.

“No school today?” he asks as he looks at you.

You shake your head. Paul places a hand on your knee, stopping the bouncing, and he holds it there.

“She had a rough night. She even felt the same pain in her chest as me.” He explains.

“Hm..” the older man says.

A woman appears with the most beautiful dark hair. Sam and the woman both look at each other with more love than a romcom could ever produce. Their love on display was raw. As much as you admired the real love that was in front of your eyes, you look elsewhere. It felt introducing.

Emily greets Paul, makes eye contact with you and gives you a smile. “Who’s this?” she asks keeping some of her attention to Sam.

“Y/N.” Paul says.

Emily looks at you as if you were an old friend. She offers everyone something to eat. As she’s cooking, Paul is trying to take you in the living room but Sam calls him outside.

You two shared a look, not wanting to let each other go. A sense of panic sets in, you’re not familiar to anyone but him. He slowly lets your hand go but he immediately takes a hold of your chin and connects his lips to yours. He tries to pull back but he keeps going back for more. It felt like a drug. He felt like a drug. You’ve never felt so close to him in that moment.

Sam’s repeated calling of Paul’s name is what makes him strong enough to let you go. He looks at you with longing before leaving out. Leaving you a bit embarrassed of the public display of affection. You turn around and Emily is not really paying any mind. You drop your tense shoulders.

“Do you cook?” she asks you.

“I know how to, but I never really do it.” You reply.

She smiles and lets you take control what’s already on the stove while she preps another food choice.

“So…tell me about yourself.” she says to make conversation.

You watch the food in front of you. You kind of hated this question. “Um..I do art…I like to read.. a lot.” You say.

“Hmm. I like to read too!” she says in a friendly tone.

“Oh cool.” you say politely. The food in front of you is all the way cooked and it’s her turn to use the stove.

“How long have you and Sam been together if you don’t mind me asking.”

“We’ve been going strong for months,” she says, “I kind of didn’t want to give Sam a chance because of what I heard.”

“What did you hear?” you ask curiously.

“Oh just people saying he was trouble but those people barely even knew him.” she says laughing at the ridiculous accusation. She turns slightly to you.

“What about you? How long have you and Paul been together?”

You shrug and set the table, “I don’t know.. we were dating for a bit but then he disappeared and I haven’t seen or heard him in a long time. Next thing you know he tells me-…” you start to ramble but catch yourself, “I don't know if we’re still dating.”

She laughs and looks at you with humor, “What? Kissing like that and you don’t know?” she shakes her head smiling.

Sam and Paul walk back into the room and Paul is automatically by your side. You’re looking at the table and he caress your cheek to make you look at him.

“I’m starving!” another voice says out loud, with humor coating it. He appears through the doorway and flops at the table. He catches sight of you and snickers, “So this is the lucky girl that is an imprint to Paul?”

“Jared.” Sam simply says with such authority and Jared looks up at him and cuts it out. Food sits on everybody’s plates but you’re the only one sitting empty plated.

“Go ahead. Get you something.” Paul says encouragingly.

“I’ll…eat later.” you say.

Paul sucks in his teeth and says, “If you don’t get something to eat.” He watches you until you have some type of food on your plate.

His hand rest on your knee while you eat slowly. You’ve seen guys eat a lot but they ate a lot. With a cleared plate, Paul leans back and thanks Emily for the food.

“It just wasn’t me, I had help.” she boasts to him.

Paul looks at you with a look of deify. You’ll never forget it.

You help clean the kitchen and go find Paul. He’s in a room talking with Jared. You enter and Jared looks up at you and gives himself a dismissal.

“Alright man.” he says in a farewell manner. He moves to leave out and he touches your shoulder with a friendly feel.

You move into the room after he asks you to close the door. You sit in the same spot Jared was sitting. Paul has the capitulum flower in his hands, fingers following the flow of the petals. You watch him.

You look around and noticed some of Paul’s things are there. You feel a small tug and look to him. His head is titled, inviting you to come closer. A magnetic force pulls you to him automatically. You had no time to think before you’re pressed against him. Lips fitting and his tongue caressing yours while his hands leave goosebumps on the skin he touches. Breathing you in like you were the only source of oxygen. Pulling you over him, the tingles are so strong, you two grind into each other. Sighing into your mouth and when he sits up and shifts, you pull back with all of your willpower. You unravel from him and lie on your back.

He lies on his side, staring down at you as your chest rise and fall to even out your breathing. You stare at the ceiling.

“I never would’ve thought Jared would be in on this.” you state in a lowered voice to break the silence.

“Yep.”

“So..You’ve been staying here?” you ask.

“Live here now. I got the hell up out of there.”

“Was it always like that?”

He thinks for a moment.

“Just when my mother left.”

You back away from asking more questions, sensing the sensitive topic.

“When’s your birthday?” you ask instead. He huffed out a laugh and tells you.

“You’re gonna gift me something?” he asks.

“Maybe.” you say smiling to yourself.

“I can give you ideas if you want.” he says. You look and he’s wearing a mischievous look. You look away but he presses on and traces a finger on the skin of your bottom lip. Blush spreads across your cheeks, heart speeding up, and you feel the intensity of his gaze on you. It’s not fair how effortless he’s able to make you feel like this.

The action somewhat parts your lips. You didn’t mean to, but a piece of your tongue touches the skin of Paul’s finger and it makes him grunt to himself while he pulls his bottom lip to the top of his teeth.

You spent more of your free time at Emily’s. It was nice to know someone who was going through the same thing. You started to ask her what it was like. After all, she accepted her imprint and they’re already engaged. She tells you it’s like a dream come true. She doesn’t have to doubt or worry with Sam. The love that they share is genuine. She’s surprised when you tell her that you haven’t accepted the imprint with Paul yet.

One night, while Paul was sleeping over, you give him the artwork of the day he came clean to you. He stares at it in awe. His eyes rake over the picture. He had an idea of your talent but it definitely solidified any thoughts he had of it.

Towards the end of the school year, Paul has gotten more busy with patrols and his fellow shapeshifter brothers. The pain in your chest is intensified.

As you’re sleeping, a pain like no other pangs your chest. It was the worst pain you’ve ever felt. It knocked the wind out of you. You tried to move to get some water but the great pain makes you fall to the floor. You heave and sneak out of your house. Your adrenaline helps you run the whole way to Emily’s. You knock and knock on the door while panting. You know something is not right. You hear a blood curdling scream that makes you scared.

Emily opens the door with a panicked look. She pulls you in and tries to hug you hello but you ask for Paul.

“He’s hurt. Jared and Sam are-“

You didn’t mean to be rude but the circumstances make you fearless to walk away, not hearing any more she has to say. You push open now Paul’s room and find him covered in blood, mostly on his chest area. An older woman bandaging him and Sam holding him down with Jared as she does so. Preventing him from hurting or pushing the older woman.

“What’s wrong with him?!” you cry out.

They look up at you and you make your way to Paul’s side. He doesn’t even notice that you’re there until he feels your hand push his hair out of his face. He’s sweating, face scrunched in pain. He quickly tries to catch his breath and finds your eyes. You lay on his side, tearing up looking at him but you don’t want him to see. Due to instinct, you place open mouth kisses on his bloody wound. The coppery metallic taste makes you sniffle. Your face on his skin in disbelief.

“How did this even happen?” you ask yourself.

His hand goes to the back of your head and sucks in quick breaths.

“I’m okay baby,” *grunts* “I’m okay baby.” he tries to convince you but you whimper at him and shake your head in devastation at him still trying to convince you that he’s okay.

Bandaged, eyes heavy and exhausted. That’s the image of Paul. The older woman who took care of bandaging his injuries hands you a wet cloth to wipe your bloody face. Medicine that flows through him makes him go into deep slumber. As you wipe, the question speaks out.

“What happened.” you whisper.

“The boys were outnumbered. Cold ones mostly attacked Paul as he was the most threatening.”

You pause and stare at the body next to you.

“What’s a cold one?”

The woman goes silent.

“He- he hasn't told you?”

You shake your head.

“You might know them as vampires…”

Your heart drops and you definitely feel like none of this is real. Any minute, you’re going to wake up safe in your bed and realize this all was a dream. You couldn’t have been more wrong with this thought.

“My husband along with other elders tells stories that get more in depth. Next time we have a bonfire, you should come.”

You don’t say anything. Still in shock by everything.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says when she packs up her equipment, “It looks like you’re going to be here with him for the rest of the night so I’ll leave some things here.” She says.

“Thank you…” you say to her. She smiles as a response.

When you wake, Paul is already awake looking back at you. You know for sure none of it was a dream. You caress his cheek for a minute and turn over to lie on your back. You breathe out a heavy sigh and slightly shake your head. You hated this picture that was being presented to you.

“How are you feeling?” you softly ask him with your head facing him, seeing his misery in broad daylight.

Bags are under his eyes, “Like shit.” he rasps out.

You give him a look of pity. Pain and all, he nudges you, “Cut it out. I’m fine.”

“How come you haven’t told me about the cold ones?” you rush out.

His face turns into stone.

“I didn’t want you to worry. I wasn’t trying to have you be on edge while I protect.”

“When you said protector I thought you just handle crime or whatever. Not vampires.” you stutter out.

“Sweetheart, they do the worst crimes known to man…This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he shakes his head, “Who even told you anyway.” he demands.

“Would you stop acting funky about it? The woman who nursed you told me. She was the only one who told me anything.” you say now getting upset.

“Why would I tell you something like that when you’re always nervous? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense that you never tell me anything unless things bubble up to the point where you have to tell me. It doesn’t make sense how you want me to accept this imprint when I feel like sometimes I can’t trust you enough to not hide certain things from me.”

There’s only silence and Paul looks at you with glowering eyes. Maybe you went a bit too far with your words but the damage was already done. He didn’t even want to look at you anymore. You sit up and turn your back towards him.

Emily comes in, catches the vibe of the environment. “Are you guys hungry?” she asks quietly.

“Paul probably is. I have to get back home.” You say and left at that.

You go to the park, sitting on the swings. You didn’t know what to feel anymore. The wind blows your hair and you look to the sky, ignoring the pain that’s growing inside of your chest.

A familiar face comes into view.

It’s Kim. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth to form words. You stare at her.

“Geez, Y/N. Are you good?” Kim asks you.

You sigh and look away and she sits on the other swing.

“How come you weren’t at school?” she asks.

“Something came up. An emergency.”

“Oh my gosh is everything alright?”

“I guess. I don’t know.” you say at the sky. You don’t feel like having this conversation.

“Well, I’m visiting a school this weekend, if you want to come with me.”

“I’ll let you know.”

She gets off of the swing and is about to leave but she turns around last minute and says, “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

The get off the swing and meet where she stands.

“What do you mean Kim? Like seriously.”

“Come on…missing school? Your parents called me asking if I knew where you went. I covered for you but I know you’re still hanging around Paul. You’re letting our friendship go to go hang out with some felonious guy. Is that blood?”

You move past her, bumping her on the shoulder, feeling a type of way. You felt lightheaded and like your vision was closing in, you realized that you missed Paul. It was exhausting denying it. You were irrevocably in love with him.

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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Kiss and Tell - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader

Summary: You and Alex accidentally out your relationship at an international jumping competition

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: heavy make out; being outed

Notes: How are his eyelashes so pretty?! I mean how is he so pretty altogether! And Nick too!

Y/N’s POV

As the sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling English countryside, I can feel the familiar excitement coursing through my veins. It’s the day of the international equestrian jump competition, where I’ll proudly represent the royal family. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the earth and the fluttering of the Union Jack flags in the breeze create a thrilling atmosphere.

Dressed in my crisp riding attire, I lead my stallion, Indiana Jones, towards the starting point. The adrenaline pumps through me as we approach course of jumps, each one more challenging than the last.

As I focus on the course ahead, I can’t help but glance at the crowd. Amongst the sea of spectators, I spot familiar faces of my fellow competitors, all dressed in their nation’s colours. But there’s one face that stands out, a face that instantly captures my attention. There, sitting in the VIP section with Henry and Bea, is Alex Claremont-Diaz, the First Son of the United States. He’s a vision in his perfect tailored suit, his dark hair is impeccably styled, and his eyes sparkle with excitement as he watches the competition unfold.

For a moment, the world around me fades away as our eyes lock.The intensity of his gaze sends shivers down my spine, and I’m momentarily mesmerised by his presence. It’s as if time stands still as I watch hi, his enthusiasm for the sport and the event itself evident in every expression, despite him not knowing anything about it at all.

As Indiana and I approach the first jump, I can feel Alex’s support from the sidelines, a silent but powerful encouragement that pushes me to do my best. With a deep breath, I guide Indiana over the first hurdle, feeling the rush of exhilaration as we soar through the air. The competition continues and I can’t help but steal glances at Alex, sitting in the royal box with Henry, Bea and June. His presence is a source of motivation, and with each jump I clear, I’m not just competeing for myself and my country but also to impress him.

The jumps come and go, each one presenting its own unique challenge, but Indiana and I handle them with grace and precision. The crowd cheers bled into a distant hum as I focus on the task at hand. It’s a demanding course, but the thrill of the competition pushes me forwards, having always felt freer on a horse than anywhere else in the royal palaces.

Finally, as the last jump is cleared, and I cross the finish line to the thunderous applause of the crowd, a sense of triumph washes over me. I’ve given it my all, and it’s a moment I’ll cherish forever. But, my heart drops when I don’t see Alex in the crowd anymore.

As I ride Indiana out of the arena, a mix of emotions well up inside me. Disappointment tinges my victory as I wonder if I missed my chance to share this moment with him. However, just when I least expect it, I spot Alex leaning against the horse box, a dreamy smile on his face. My heart leaps with joy as I rein Indiana to a halt.

With a gentle pat on Indiana’s neck to reassure her, I prepare to dismount, but before I can swing my leg over her back, Alex steps forwards. “Let me help you down.” He offers, voice soft and inviting. My heart pounds in my chest but nod, my heart races as he approaches. Alex’s large, capable hands find their way to my hips, and with a graceful movement, he lifts me down from the saddle. His touch is firm yet gentle, and I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against my back.

Once I’m securely on the ground, I turn to face him, our proximity now closer than ever. His dreamy smile has transformed into something more intense, a longing that mirrors the desire in my own eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, and begin to loosen the girth on Indiana’s saddle, the leather creaking softly under my touch. Alex watches me with a quiet intensity, his presence a magnetic force that draws us closer together.

“You look so good in those.” He squeezes my hip, breath hot against my neck and way too close for anything innocent to be assumed.

Suddenly, the click and flash of cameras intrude upon our private moment. The paparazzi have found me, eager to capture me post competition and even more so now that Alex is standing so close to me that there is no plausible explanation other than intimate. Alex’s hands leave my hips, and we both step away, allowing the stable boy to approach and take Indiana from me to cool him down and getting him untacked.

With a glance exchanged between us, Alex and I wordlessly agree to disappear from the prying lenses of the paparazzi. He looks behind his shoulder before offering me his arm with a grin, I do the same, glancing back at the paparazzi who are mostly obscured before I loop my arm with his, letting him lead me away.

We navigate through the bustling crowds, our steps quick and determined. The intensity of the situation electrifies the air around us. The desire for privacy and the magnetic pull between is intensifies with each step we take, both of us needing something more than just our arms locked.

Soon enough, we find a small, windowless room tucked away from he public eye. Without hesitation, Alex tugs me inside, and with a swift motion, he slams the door behind us. I can feel the thud resonate through the wooden door as he presses me against it, his body covering mine and my hands pinned above my head. The sudden closeness between us sends a rush of heat through my veins. Our hearts been in unison, and our breaths come fast and shallow.

With a burning desire that mirrors my own, Alex draws me up into a passionate kiss. His lips meld with mine in a fervent embrace, sending shivers of ecstasy down my spine. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and longing that leaves me breathless. With equal passion, I respond, our mouths locked in a dance of insatiable hunger.

Having Alex here with me after three long months apart is a sensation like no other. It’s as though the world falls away, leaving just the two of us to revel in this long-awaited reunion. His presence making me feel alive, desired, and utterly cherished.

Alex’s hands, strong and possessive, roam my body with an almost desperate need. They trace the lines of my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My own hands are equally eager, clutching at his shoulders, fingers running through his fluffy hair as I pull him closer, craving more of his touch. Everything makes the room seem to spin around us, a blur of passion and desire as we lose ourselves in each other. Our kisses deepen, becoming a tumultuous symphony of need and longing. The heat between us is almost unbearable, and every touch, every caress, sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

A strangled sound leaving my throat to me swallowed by Alex when his nimble fingers find the buttons of my jodhpurs, a wicked smile spreads across his lips into the kiss, and I can feel the way he revels in the effects he has on me. His touch is almost maddening slow, each button undone with deliberate intent, driving me to the brink of desire. My body responding eagerly, and I lose myself in the sensations, a man slipping past my lips.

As he gets to the last button, we hear my name being called over the speakers, announcing first, second and third places. Panic courses through me, and we break the kiss with a gasp, sharing a frantic look, realising how screwed we are. In a rush, we disentangle ourselves, and hastily start buttoning up my jodhpurs, our clothes in disarray, and our appearances very obviously post-make-out messy. With no time to fix ourselves, we hurried make our way out of the small room.

The flashes are blinding as soon as we step out, the press obviously having seen us go in somehow. We have no way of hiding the evidence of what’s just happened: our hairs are tousled; lips kiss-swollen and our shirts untucked and crumpled. There’s no denying what just transpired in that private room, and the paparazzi have captured it all. I can already hear the headlines tomorrow: ‘FSOTUS and Prince Y/N - Closet Lovers?’ Or some bullshit like that. My family are going to kill me but honestly? I don’t care because now I hold Alex in public.

I don’t have time to really think about it all as my security details find us and are rushing us through the crowds but one thing I do know for certain is that I'm not going to hide anymore. I don’t care what grandpa has to say or what Philip thinks. I love Alex Claremont-Diaz.

As I come to a sudden stop, Alex bumping into my back, hands instinctively flying to my hips to steady himself. That small, wordless gesture of support is all the confidence I need. I spin around, ignoring his questioning look, and without hesitation, I grab his face and draw him down into a searing kiss. The world around us seeming to pause for a moment as our lips meet in a passionate embrace. The paparazzi’s flashing cameras capture the intensity of the kiss, and a murmur of surprise and excitement tipples through the crowds. For a brief moment, it’s as if we’re the only two people in the world, our love and desire on full display.

When the kiss finally breaks, Alex is grinning down at me, chocolate eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. He draws me into another kiss, but this one is softer, filled with tenderness and a promise of a future where we don’t have to hide. Our lips meeting in a sweet embrace, the softness of his kiss feels like a whispered promise that he’ll stand by my side no matter what happens.

Alex is pulling away too quickly for my liking, his gaze locking with mine, and in a hushed voice, he murmurs, “I love you.”

Hearing those words from his sends a rush of emotions trough me. It’s a declaration that makes my heart soar, a confirmation of the love that has bound us together despite the odds. I look into his eyes, filled with love and sincerity, and I can’t help but smile.

“I love you too.” I reply, my voice filled with so much warmth and affection that it cracks a little.

“Good, now go get your rosette, Baby. You deserve it.”

-------------

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pitaficionado · 14 days ago

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Pit worship

As I step into the gym late at night, the familiar sights and sounds wash over me, but my attention is immediately drawn to the muscular guy in the corner. He’s lifting weights with an intensity that makes my heart race, his muscles rippling and glistening under the overhead lights. I find myself leaning against a nearby wall, unable to tear my gaze away from his broad shoulders and chiseled arms. There's a magnetic quality to him, a confidence that radiates as he effortlessly hoists the heavy weights. I can't help but leer, my mind wandering to the wild memories of our last encounter, the thrill of surrendering to temptation. The gym feels electric, charged with possibilities as I watch him, a mix of admiration and desire swirling within me.

He stands confidently, his broad shoulders and chiseled arms on display as he makes an unusual offer. With a smirk, he casually stretches his arms behind his head, revealing his well-maintained, powerful physique and inviting gaze. For $500, he promises an experience like no other—an opportunity to worship his pits. His scent, a mix of musk and masculinity, lingers in the air, as he assures you it’s worth every penny. He’s clearly proud of his body, and this playful, dominant proposal adds to his allure, blending confidence with an air of temptation.

I’m caught off guard, surprised by his bold offer—worshipping his pits for $500? It’s not something I ever expected to hear. At first, I feel a mix of disbelief and hesitation, unsure if he’s serious or just teasing. But as I look at him, his confidence and the way he owns his muscular presence start to intrigue me. There's something magnetic about the whole situation, a curiosity pulling me in despite my initial reaction. Part of me wants to laugh it off, but another part can’t help but wonder what it would be like. It's unusual, yes, but undeniably captivating.

As he raises his arm and flexes his bicep, the muscles bulging impressively, I catch a surprising hint of citrus wafting from his pit. It's subtle but unmistakable, cutting through the heavier scent of sweat and skin. The contrast catches me off guard—here's this hulking, masculine figure, and yet there's this fresh, almost clean scent mingling with the intensity of the moment. It’s unexpected, and somehow it adds to the intrigue, making the whole situation feel even more surreal. The mix of power and freshness is oddly inviting, like something that draws me in despite myself.

I find myself hesitating, a wave of guilt creeping in as I think about my husband back home. His face flashes in my mind, and suddenly, this situation feels even more complicated. I can’t help but question what I’m doing here, caught between the strange allure of the moment and the commitment I made to someone else. My heart beats a little faster, not just from the excitement but from the internal conflict growing inside me. Is this really something I want to explore? I can feel the temptation pulling at me, but my loyalty to my husband makes me pause, torn between desire and the reality of my relationship.

He must sense my hesitation because, without missing a beat, he flexes both arms, making his pits more prominent, like he's deliberately trying to reel me back in. His biceps swell, and the movement draws my attention as his pits open up, almost invitingly. There's something deliberate in the way he does it, as if he knows exactly how to play into my curiosity. The subtle scent from earlier mingles with the raw power of his muscles, and he holds the pose with a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect it has on me. He’s pushing me, silently daring me to give in, to let go of that flicker of doubt and follow the pull of the moment. It’s both bold and tempting, and I feel myself wavering again.

Feeling torn but still intrigued, I cautiously make an offer, my voice quieter than I intended. “How about 250… just to smell, but no licking?” The words hang in the air between us, and I can’t believe I’ve actually said it. It’s like I’m trying to meet him halfway, testing the waters without diving in fully. I still feel the pull of curiosity, but I’m not ready to go all the way with his bold proposition. My offer feels like a compromise, a way to satisfy the strange attraction without completely crossing the line. I wait for his reaction, my heart racing, wondering if he’ll take it or push for more.

He chuckles, a low, confident sound, and shakes his head. "Nah, sweetheart," he says, his voice firm but teasing, "it's 500 for the full experience—worship, no half-measures." He doesn’t budge, clearly standing his ground, as if he knows his worth and isn't about to settle for less. His arms stay raised, flexed, his pits on display like he's daring me to reconsider, to go all in. There’s no room for negotiation in his tone; it’s all or nothing. I can feel the weight of the moment, the intensity in his gaze, and I realize that if I want any part of this, it’s on his terms, no compromises.

After a moment of silence, I find myself giving in, my hesitation melting into reluctant curiosity. Slowly, I nod, feeling my pulse quicken as I agree to his terms. I’m not sure if it’s the confidence in his stance or the strange allure of the moment, but I can’t seem to resist any longer. Tentatively, I take a step closer, my mind still racing with uncertainty, but my body moving on instinct. There’s a nervous flutter in my stomach as I prepare to follow through, the reality of what I’ve agreed to sinking in. It feels surreal, like I’m crossing a line I never thought I would, yet here I am, caught between desire and disbelief, letting the moment take over.

With a deep breath, I finally give in completely, abandoning all the hesitation that’s been holding me back. It’s like something snaps, and I decide to let go of the internal conflict, surrendering to the strange pull of the moment. I move closer, no longer tentative, fully committing to the experience I once hesitated over. The scent, the power, the sheer presence of him—it’s intoxicating, and I allow myself to lean into it. My thoughts of home, my doubts, everything fades into the background as I focus entirely on what’s happening right now. There’s a sense of release, of letting myself be swept up in the intensity of it all, as I fully embrace the offer I never thought I’d take.

As I lean in closer, the scent hits me with a force stronger than I had anticipated. It’s overwhelming, richer and more intense than I could have imagined. The musk, mixed with that faint citrus undertone, floods my senses, stirring something deep inside me. It's raw, primal, and strangely captivating, even more potent than I had hoped for. Each breath pulls me deeper into the experience, and the heady mix of sweat and masculinity feels almost magnetic. It's like the scent is wrapping itself around me, drawing me in further, and I can’t help but be completely consumed by it.

As I get lost in the intoxicating scent, a rush of boldness surges through me, and I lean in even closer, my heart racing with exhilaration. In a moment of wild impulse, I let my instincts take over and spit lightly into his pit, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere between us. The action feels both daring and oddly liberating, a primal expression of my newfound willingness to fully embrace the moment. I can see the surprise flicker in his eyes, but there’s an undeniable spark of intrigue that follows, as if my audacity has unlocked something deeper between us. The scent envelops me even more, mixing with my bold gesture, amplifying the electric tension in the air.

Without even realizing it, I become acutely aware of how turned on I am, my body responding to the intensity of the moment. The thrill of spitting into his pit—a bold, primal act—has ignited something deep within me, and suddenly, I’m rock hard. It’s a physical reaction I hadn’t anticipated, catching me off guard as I feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The mix of vulnerability and power, combined with the intoxicating scent, has left me completely consumed by desire. I can’t help but feel exhilarated and overwhelmed by the raw energy between us, my body betraying my thoughts and revealing just how much I’m drawn into this wild experience.

As I continue licking his pit, the taste and scent envelop me in a haze of pleasure, and I find myself getting closer and closer to the edge. Each flick of my tongue sends waves of sensation coursing through me, igniting every nerve and heightening my arousal. The heat radiating from his skin only adds to the intensity, and I can feel the primal energy building inside me. My breaths come in ragged gasps, and I realize that I'm teetering on the brink of climax, lost in a world where nothing else matters but this moment. The thrill of the act, combined with the intoxicating scent and taste, pulls me deeper into ecstasy, and I know I’m about to lose myself completely.

Even when the shrill sound of the phone rings out—probably my husband checking in—I can’t pull myself away. The distraction fades into the background as I focus entirely on the sensation of licking him, lost in the moment and the overwhelming pleasure it brings. Each lick ignites a fire inside me, drowning out the world beyond us. My heart races, not just from the physical thrill, but from the thrilling danger of the situation. The ringing phone is just an echo, a reminder of reality that feels miles away as I give in fully to my desires. I’m consumed by the intoxicating scent, the warmth of his skin, and the thrill of indulging in something so forbidden, surrendering completely to the electric connection between us.

As I continue to lick, the pleasure reaches an unbearable crescendo, and I finally lose myself completely in ecstasy. Waves of sensation crash over me, overwhelming my senses as I climax, a powerful release that washes through every part of my being. It’s a moment of pure bliss, where time seems to stand still, and all that exists is the connection between us and the intoxicating pleasure that has consumed me. The world outside fades away, leaving only the heat of his skin, the intoxicating scent, and the thrill of indulging in this wild experience. I surrender entirely to the moment, feeling a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability, knowing I've crossed a line but unable to care in the face of such overwhelming desire.

He seems pleased, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face as he watches me lose myself in the moment. There’s a glint of appreciation in his eyes, as if my surrender only fuels his confidence and power. He leans back slightly, relishing in the thrill of having drawn me into this wild experience, and I can sense that he revels in my pleasure as much as his own. His expression tells me everything—I’ve not only satisfied my own desires but have also ignited something in him. The shared intensity of the moment deepens our connection, leaving us both breathless and exhilarated, basking in the aftermath of our daring indulgence.

"First time is for free," he says with a playful grin, his tone teasing yet inviting. The confidence in his voice sends a thrill down my spine, and I can’t help but smile back, still riding the high of what just transpired. It feels like a challenge, an unspoken promise of more to come, and I’m left with a mix of excitement and curiosity. There’s an air of boldness in his proposition, suggesting that this experience is just the beginning of something deeper. As I catch my breath, I realize I’m eager to explore what he means, ready to embrace whatever thrilling adventures lie ahead, knowing I’ve already crossed a threshold into a world I never thought I’d enter.

As he turns to leave, he tosses me his sweaty tank top with a playful flick of his wrist, the fabric landing softly in my hands. The scent of him clings to the material—musky and intoxicating—reminding me of the wild experience we just shared. "Keep that as a memento," he says, flashing a final, roguish grin that sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. The tank top feels warm against my skin, a tangible reminder of our encounter and the electric energy that sparked between us. As he walks away, I can’t help but smile, already anticipating what our next meeting might hold, knowing that I’m left with a piece of him that will linger long after he’s gone.

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look-at-the-soul · 3 months ago

Text

Look at the soul- Part 12

Cillian Murphy x OC

Author’s note: please please forgive me for taking so long to update this little story, hopefully I’ll get on posting more frequently ✨ I hope you still like this couple, there’s a lot in the store for them 🥰

Series Master list

Song: Alone by Heart, the Royal Philharmonic Orchest

Word count: 2,938

“That was great!” The director called enthusiastically just as Cillian finished his lecture.

An assistant emerged from the shadows in a heartbeat and asked if he wanted something to drink.

“I’m alright, thanks.” He gave her a small nod.

“Let me take this off.” A tech approached him and pointed at the microphone attached to the nape of his jacket.

“Oh, sure.” Turning around, Cillian lifted the back of his jacket so the man could undo the clip holding it together.

Someone else offered Cillian another folder with another part of the script. Something happened in that very moment, the paper felt heavy, not because it was a ton of papers, but because of the character, what this opportunity could mean.

“Are you sure you can’t push your other commitment?” The director finally reached him with a long face. “Your screen tests is fucking amazing.”

Cillian clenched his jaw for a moment. Thinking of the play, all the hard work they’ve been investing daily, the rehearsals, the way it had helped him with the pain and loss of his wife. And then, in the back of his mind, Marianne’s face appeared flashing him.

This was probably one of the greatest opportunities in his career…

****

“How’s little Miss Hanna?” Marianne asked over the phone as she finished washing the dishes.

She could feel her best friend smiling as she made a sound to her daughter.

“Getting bigger every minute.” Her friend Anna replied. “Do you wanna FaceTime?”

Marianne made an excitement sound and pressed the green button on her screen. “Oh look at you princess! You’re so pretty.”

“She was sick last week, and now I’m starting to feel ill, it sucks because I won’t be able to take any medicine.”

“Ow sweetie, try to get some rest at least.”

“The sleeping schedule it’s a mess she wakes up in the middle of the night every single day, we’ve tried soft music, dark room and now Evan is sleeping in the guest room because he needs to get up early the next day.”

“Wish I could be closer to help you during the day at least.” Marianne felt sad for the miles keeping them apart. After years of friendship seeing her best friend become a mother hit different, maternity gave her this beautiful aura and she seemed to have special super powers to balance motherhood, her business and everything around the house without breaking a sweat. It was admirable.

“I’d love that! But enough of diapers… tell me! How’s it going over there?”

Finishing with the dirty dishes, she took her phone with her to sit on the couch, pausing the movie she wasn’t even watching.

“Oh! It’s been good, lots of rainy days. I was working on an essay for a project but words won’t come out as they should, it doesn’t makes sense so I’m taking a break from it and I’ll start it over later.”

“I wish I could help you but… nope.” Anna stated firmly and then cracked a smile, she was over college papers now. “Have you been out meeting cute ginger Irish boys?”

Marianne laughed. “How do you know?” She joked, her schedule was hectic most of the time, that was the last thing on her mind.

“Ugh of course you haven’t.” Anna rolled her eyes, she knew her too well.

Suddenly Scout did a big stretch and decided to join her, demanding some petting like she did whenever he was close.

“Who’s that?” Anna asked with interest.

“Scout. Say hiya.” Marianne moved her phone closer to show her friend the black lab. “I’m puppy sitting him, it’s adorable.”

“And the owner is…?”

“He’s part of the cast of the play.” Marianne pretended to give Scout a smooch on the head, but she was able to feel her friend’s gaze on her.

“Okay… is he single?” Anna went immediately in for the important details.

“Widowed.”

Anna’s jaw dropped, she grabbed her phone excitedly while whispering because Hannah was now taking a nap on her other arm. “Spill the gossip.”

“Stop, there’s no gossip.”

“He’s widow, has a dog that clearly likes you. What else?”

“Anna relax.”

“No. Don’t tell me to relax, tell me the dirty details.”

Marianne felt mortified, in the past Anna tried to be a matchmaker, introducing her to several friends, and her husband’s friends, even a cousin, but it didn’t went further than a date.

“Look-” but her words got cut when she got a message from Cillian greeting her and to ask how Scout was behaving.

“Is that the dog’s Dad?”

“No, it’s Mum I’ll give her a call.” She felt bad for lying to her best friend, but she didn’t feel like there was something to tell. “Love you, call you later.” She rushed to hang up.

***

Cillian strolled thru the busy platform at the tube, it was starting to get packed, close to rush hour. He remembered this all so well from the years he lived in the city, eager to get a better opportunity in the industry.

He waited patiently minding his own business just like everyone else… people from different places, backgrounds and mindsets crossed before him not giving him a double look. He liked that, it was awkward to be stopped by a stranger to praise about his work, he felt extremely grateful without a doubt, but he sucked at the taking compliments part. He never knew what to say or do.

He felt thankful for the walk he was taking, he had a lot of things on his mind, he just got off the phone with one of his kids, they were just finishing their homework and decided to help grandpa set up a dvd player. Cillian strolled through the busy street now, deciding to go straight to his hotel room, he could always grab something from the mini bar to have dinner.

The beep on his phone announced a new message and it changed his whole mood.

Sleeping (he’s snoring).- Marianne wrote him and added a photo of Scout peacefully sleeping on her lap.

A stupid smile appeared on his lips, he couldn’t stop it.

Looks like you’ve got the magic touch. He wrote back, but deleted it before sending. Looks like he’s having a blast. He typed instead. Can I give you a call?

As he stepped inside his room, Cillian took off his shoes and jacket, Marianne didn’t reply but called him directly.

“Hey how’s it going?” He asked walking around the room.

“Oh my! You should’ve seen Scout, he jumped and stormed off towards the door when he heard you.” Marianne explained that she had the call on speaker.

Cillian chuckled softly. “Yeah?”

“Yes! Look I’m going to put you on video.”

Staring at his screen, he pressed the green button and soon an image of Scout wagging his tail and looking at the door filled his phone.

“Talk to him.” Marianne proposed crouching down to get closer.

“Hey buddy, over here.”

Scout turned around a started stomping his front paws.

“See? He misses you.”

Cillian saw her hand caressing Scout’s head.

“What was the other photo you sent me? Earlier.”

“Oh! That was us going for a walk.” Marianne explained going back to sit on the couch, still pointing her camera towards the black lab.

With a huff, Scout jumped on the couch before getting comfortable against Marianne once more. Arranging the base, she leaned her phone on it to have her hands free and went back to scratch Scout’s head.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Marianne stated giving the dog a glance.

A soft smile grew on his lips. “But he had something yellow on?”

“Yes! I got him a raincoat.” Marianne explained waving her hand.

“You let him on the couch, protect him from the rain… when I go back he’s going to be so spoiled.” He chuckled softly getting comfortable.

“Well he deserves spawcial treatment.” She explained running her fingernails through his back. “Righ?” She asked staring into those big brown eyes.

Envy flashed through Cillian’s mind. How lucky that bloody dog is, he thought.

“Tell me, how is London?”

“Crowded and it wasn’t raining so that’s grand.” Cillian chatted. “But they could’ve saved me the trip.”

“Why?” Marianne frowned and started fidgeting something around her neck.

Cillian let out a soft groan and looked towards the window. “From the beginning I said I couldn’t do this project, but the director insisted on the screen test.”

Marianne mouthed an explicit oh, but decided to not interrupt Cillian’s explanation. “I’ve other priorities going on at the moment.”

How could he make a decision like that? Choose between two projects, she wondered what made him say no before it could even start and how that probably affected him on future plans.

He couldn’t help but fix his eyes on her hand, twisting one of her fingers between the necklace. “I’m sorry… what’s that?”

Marianne looked down to see what he meant.

“Your pendant.” He clarified.

“My grandma gave it to me when I turned eighteen. It was given to her by her mother.” She leaned forwards to get closer to the camera and show it to him. “It’s our Lady of Guadalupe. I’ve had it for years.”

Cillian thought how he hadn’t noticed it before. Immediately it gave him an idea, it could be useful as a resource in the play, how come he didn’t think of it before?

“That’s lovely.” He hummed.

“It’s very popular over there, the fact that she chose to show up with the same skin color as our natives, the meanings behind her dress and veil… there’s actually professional studies that confirm the image isn’t a print and her eyes actually are alive.” she explained, getting lost. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“No it’s fine… I mean I don’t, but everyone chooses what to believe in.”

He remembered seeing her making a silent prayer from time to time, or the signal of the cross subtly before a rehearsal.

Marianne thought how thoughtful it was from him to respect her beliefs. She liked the fact that he didn’t laugh or rolled his eyes by her words.

“You know… I keep you and your kids in my prayers.” She added out of the blue, not knowing if she was stepping over the line. But she did, praying was the best she could do for him.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” He swallowed, not knowing what else to say, it was a beautiful gesture from her despite his own thoughts about religion. “I think adding a subtle touch like that to the play would be nice.”

“What? Are you going to make Adria pray at night?” She joked, making him laugh.

“No, but the necklace. That and the letters we thought about her and this secret man in her life, I just thought he could’ve given her a necklace that means so much and she keeps it.”

“I like how it sounds!”

Cillian asked her to hang on while he looked around for a pen and paper to take notes, Marianne heard him curse over what seemed to be an stuck drawer.

“It could be like a transition step,” he thought out loud, “she finds the necklace and it’s a pivotal moment for Adria, then the letters… and that’s when this man reveals himself to the audience.” He could see it all so clearly, Adria’s facial expression, her strong persona shattering by the sudden memories.

Marianne could hear Cillian talk all day long, his velvety voice was like a lullaby to her when he got lost in something, it was like she could see what he was explaining in a movie scene. The images were so vivid, like in a dream.

His critical point of view added something magical to what might sound like a regular idea. He made it stand out.

“I just think we’re going to cause Enda a heart attack with the changes we’ve suggested.” Marianne sighed and Scout mirrored her.

“Nah, he’s gonna be fine.” Cillian waved his hand to dismiss her worries. “What really matters here it’s how you feel.”

She chuckled nervously, not wanting the conversation to turn about her, deep down she still felt so nervous for the outcome of this.

He didn’t want to say he was a good actor, but he was good at reading people. For an instant, her fears flashed through her eyes. But at the same time he was having a hard time trying to find the differences between her and Adria, it was almost impossible to spot where one ended and the other started.

“What? What is it?”

“How do you do it? How can you not be scared of getting on stage?”

Cillian pouted, pondering on her question. “I guess you don’t think about it.”

“But I’m already.” She laughed.

“Then just move your attention towards something else… your next move, the next line. Try to focus on what’s going on at the moment.” He tried to give her the best advice. “Roll with it, enjoy it.”

“I’m just wondering if anyone will come and see a rookie.”

“Tickets will sold out, mark my words.” He assured her without hesitation.

“Thanks for the cheering, I really appreciate the support.” She scratched Scout absently.

“Do you want to hear the idea I’ve for the video?” Now it was Cillian’s turn to smile, he had been working on that project most of the flight, taking notes and letting his mind go as he listened to the song over and over.

“Absolutely!”

“We’ve learned to leave judgment behind us already right?” He asked holding his phone in his other hand.

“Oh God, what are you going to make me do this time around? Should I be scared?” Marianne joked.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m going to do it anyways.” She added then.

And Cillian was transported back in time, when he’d get the call from certain film director, he didn’t ask what was the part about or how big was the role involved… he always said yes.

So he went on to tell her all about the very specific idea he wanted to achieve for this video and how fitting it felt for the lyric.

He felt inspired, in his mind he could already see the images, the story telling itself, and the permission to use the locations was already on its way. Being behind the camera was one of his many passions, and getting the chance to do it once more was an opportunity he didn’t want to let go.

She noticed the excitement in his voice as he explained the different segments of the story, she could only compare it to taking a kid to Disneyland, and a couple of times, she forced herself to look somewhere because he was too distracting.

“I had a crazy moment earlier,” Marianne started to tell him as the call took another turn.

“Ya? What happened?” Cillian asked lifting his free arm to place it behind his head, involuntarily Marianne couldn’t help it but stare at his bicep.

“I started talking to Scout, as if he’d answer me.” She laughed and Cillian imitated her reaction. “Then I stopped abruptly when I realized what I was doing and started laughing while Scout barked uncontrollably, he probably thought I was crazy.”

“Oh he’s used to that, don’t worry I talk alone all the time.” Cillian offered then with a smile.

“He’s like a big teddy bear.” She gushed, swooning over the black lab keeping her company. “I’m not so sure I want to give him back.”

She added in a playful tone, but quickly rushed to explain she was just joking.

And that provoked a loud and deep laugh from him. Raisin his eyebrows he covered his mouth with his palm, the realization of how easy she made him smile or laugh made his mind go into another direction…

“Alright Scout, are you ready? We’re having a spaw night.” Marianne explained to the dog after ending the call with Cillian, she put on a fluffy robe, threw her hair up in a messy bun and invited Scout to sit on her lap, as she started to brush him he quickly started to relax, opening his legs wide and closing his eyes while she rubbed his belly.

She then put one of her hairbands just for fun and took one of his paws to added moisturize. So far he seemed to enjoy it, she always thought a dog is just like a little kid, they get excited over the simple things the things that really matter, and in the process they show us a different side of love.

“Do you like it?” She asked trying to look at Scout’s face, but he was far gone, with his tongue sticking out, showing off his teeth.

“You know, I’ve been keeping a little secret…” she whispered, struggling to find the right words. “I think I’m falling for your Dad.”

But admitting her feelings out loud didn’t make it easier, all the opposite she wondered how she’d be able to hide them while working together.

And little did she know that a few miles away, staring out of his hotel window, Cillian was looking at the sky, thinking of her and all the feelings she was making him have.

He wanted her to be part of his life, he was craving the peace and joy she brought whenever she stepped in the room. He needed to hear her laugh and see her smile every day, all the time. He just needed to find a way to her heart.

I hear the ticking of the clock

I'm lying here, the room's pitch dark

I wonder where you are tonight

'Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone?

You don't know how long I have wanted

To touch your lips and hold you tight

You don't know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

But the secret is still my own

And my love for you is still unknown, alone

'Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone? How do I get you alone?

Black lab Inspiration: Elvis batz the lab

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Tag list: @lyarr24 @garrison-girl-08 @cillmequick @zablife @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo

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@onlydeadcells @babaohhhriley @lonelyweeb0044 @lovemissyhoneybee @ange-thoughts

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@kmc1989 @lau219

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy fiction #cillian murphy oc #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x fem reader #cillian murphy x y/n

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uzumaki-rebellion · 2 months ago

Text

"Tethered to You" Chapter 4

Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"Early this morning When you knocked upon my door Early this morning When you knocked upon my door

And I said hello Satan, ah I believe it is time to go Me and the devil walkin' side by side Me and the devil walking side by side…"

Soap & Skin – "Me and the Devil"

Her eyelids were too heavy to open. Swollen and raw from crying, Osha couldn't pry her dry lids apart. Her thighs ached and her head pounded a steady rhythmic pain. The scent of old wood smoke permeated the air. Tangled under a thin sheet and heavy wool blanket, she was too weary to move, yet the spiky pressure on her bladder was insistent that she relieve herself.

Osha turned her head to work the kinks in her neck out first. She wiped the crust from her lashes and dared to peek at the new world she escaped to. Qimir kept his living space neat although it was crowded with mechanical gadgets and cast off metalworkings. There were lighting lamps on the walls giving the cave a rustic glow. A power generator hummed in another hidden section of the cave that she spotted from a narrow opening beyond the sleeping area.

On a therma pad, near an old portable stove, sat a brass cooking pot. Something savory simmered inside, but Osha ignored it. She lifted up from the narrow bed noticing the weakness of her limbs. Her arm shook trying to hold her side up. A sour odor hit her in the face next. She sniffed wondering if it was the food cooking in the pot, however, seconds later, she understood it was her own unwashed body funk. With a scrunched face she dragged herself to the edge of the bed and placed her hands on her thighs to prop herself up. Queasiness in her stomach forced her head to lurch forward and she vomited a clear liquid onto the cave floor. She dragged her dehydrated body from the bed and headed for an open barrel filled with water. Not bothering to find a cup, she scooped water into her mouth and after drinking her fill, she washed her face with the cool liquid. A bitter watery sensation gathered in the back of her throat, but Osha pushed back on the urge to throw up again and swallowed several times praying that whatever wanted out... stayed in. The pain in her head subsided to a dull thud.

She was alone in the cave.

On unsteady legs, Osha rushed outside and peered down toward the ocean. The Exile ll was still on its landing pad in the distance. He hadn't abandoned her. Yet. She leaned against a rock wall and breathed in the crisp air. It helped quell the sudden panic. She touched her chest and her heart thumped like a frightened bird caught under her fingers. Embracing the fear that washed over her in that moment, Osha picked it apart to comprehend what it truly meant. Was it abandonment or the fear of never seeing him again? The swift attachment to Qimir seemed unnatural and yet her heart squeezed the inside of her chest the way it did when she lost her family as a child.

A dull sun floated in a hazy overcast sky allowing small shards of light to skim the oily blackness of the sea. The grayness floating on the horizon didn't affect the comfortable temperature caressing the skin on her face. She touched the clothing drenched in her stench. A bath was in order. She hastily pulled down her pants and squatted with stiff joints. Her urine ran out in a dark yellow stream flowing down loose gravel for what seemed like forever. She was grateful for not needing to do anything else and let her private parts drip-dry. A gust of cooler air blew between her legs and she pulled her pants up quickly being careful not to step in her own voided waste.

She wandered back to the cave testing the strength in her legs and passed a trio of small rock-looking creatures that watched her movement with round black eyes and long snouts.

"Shoo!' she said kicking her feet toward them in case they were small predators. They only watched her pass with quiet curiosity.

Inside the cave, Osha searched for clothing that belonged to Mae. She couldn't find anything other than a large chest filled with Qimir's things. She could borrow something of his though. Behind the chest was a metal clothing rack that held his black cape and other menacing looking garments. She touched his cape. The material was heavy under her fingertips.

"You're finally up…"

Osha jumped while fondling his clothes. She swallowed thickly and turned to face him. He wore a simple beige wrap-front jacket and brown linen pants with sturdy sandals and carried pale yellow netting filled with whatever he caught in the sea.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A few days now. Three to be exact."

"Three days?" she sputtered back.

"Yep," he said heading to his kitchen area.

He dumped his fresh catch into a large bucket of water and wiped his hands on a dingy clean cloth sitting on a low wooden table. She moved away from his slow advance. He paused his movement toward her with a questioning look.

"Don't come near me. I smell really bad."

"I know, but I'm used to it now."

She looked away from his direct gaze embarrassed.

"Put on your boots. I'll take you to where Mae stayed. She has things you can use there. And you can bathe…in private."

Osha nodded and he pointed to her work boots under the bed. She sat down and laced up. He busied himself with checking on his bubbling pot and the cook stove. While he wasn't looking, she wiped her right boot over the spot where she vomited hoping it would dry up before he noticed or smelled it.

"Coffee?" he asked, holding up a black pot.

Osha shook her head.

"It's here if you want it. I don't know how much in provisions Mae had left down there, but I'll supply you with what you need until you're better."

Qimir spoke to her in a modulated tone that was probably meant to soothe her uneasiness of a three-day blackout. His voice caressed her earlobes and she didn't fully trust the way it made her feel. Safe.

He wasn't a safe man.

But she wasn't a safe woman either.

He was a Sith.

And she chose him over the Jedi.

His hair was a damp crown of dark waves. He'd bathed earlier. His shirt stuck to his back and sides in wet places. He smelled of the sea and wind giving her a false glimpse of what life could be like with him training there. Her eyes narrowed watching him putter around his little kitchen like some innocent domestic. It was part of his seduction to keep her there. She knew that.

"Ready?" he said wiping his hands and then brushing a lock of hair from his eye.

Osha stood and Qimir reached for her newly acquired lightsaber hidden under the bed that she missed. He handed it to her overlooking the obvious wet spot on the floor under her boot. She gripped the lightsaber with assertive purpose. What she had done to get the weapon rushed forward in her mind and she shelved it for later introspection. He led the way out of the cave.

"Keep an eye on those things over there. They'll try to slip into your place and eat your food or even steal your clothes for nesting material. They're harmless, but annoying sometimes," he said pointing to the rock creatures. "Mae used to feed them and now they linger here all the time defecating everywhere."

Osha grinned behind Qimir's back. Mae was always playing with animals and insects on their home world. She exhaled a worrisome breath thinking of her sister.

"Hold up a minute," she said.

A spasm in her lower back slowed her walk.

"No. Keep moving. You haven't walked in days and your muscles are cramped. Stretch and move."

He kept walking far along a long, flat, and uneven path that created a barrier to a lagoon of dark blue water. She glanced to her left and admired another rocky island shaped like a scalene triangle on the horizon. Qimir turned to look at her.

"Walk," he said.

It was an order.

Osha pushed herself and grit her teeth enduring the uncomfortable pins and needles sensation in her sluggish feet. Slowly but surely her lower limbs came back to life and she trudged behind Qimir without stopping.

"You'll stay there," he said pointing further inland.

They hiked off the path for another twenty minutes and Osha understood why her sister never knew her Master's identity. He kept her housed far away where it was impossible to sneak up on him. Hidden behind a giant crumbling boulder that jutted across a tiny stream was a small opening to a dark cavern. Qimir climbed in first and popped a lighting tube he pulled from his pocket that lit up the entrance. He glanced around and found a lamp fixed to the cave wall and tapped it. Soft yellow light illuminated a small neat dwelling. There was a cot, a single chair, and a small table with tools and blade weapons on it. An uneven makeshift bamboo closet filled with Mae's cloaks and dark garments leaned against another wall. A hand-woven basket near the bed was filled with underwear and scarves. There was a decent-sized crack in the roof that let in some sunlight and it showed Osha a comfortable set up. The cave had more room in it than she ever had in her sixteen years away from Brendok. On Coruscant she roomed in a noisy dorm with other younglings and Padawans, while working as a meknek only afforded her tiny shared bunks in close-confined quarters on a starfighter. The cave was fit for a queen compared to what she was used to.

"She has a therma pad and some cooking utensils back there and a portable compression chamber to dry and preserve the food she caught herself. The lagoon water is drinkable, but run it through that water purifier over there first. It's rained the last two days and she collects water in buckets outside from the rock run-off…"

He pointed out other things she would need to use like a heater and where she could use the restroom inside and outside. Osha turned on other lamps and looked around.

"You'll find where to bathe safely in several places once you go exploring on your own. You can use the lagoon too if you want. There's a few natural hot springs around the island to soak your body after training. But you don't need that yet," he said.

"Okay."

"Clean up. Rest. We'll talk more later."

She nodded and he lifted an unopened ration pack next to a small knife on the desk.

"She usually had a box of these in here. They taste pretty good if you haven't eaten in a long time."

"I'll look around for them."

Qimir headed out and stopped in his tracks with his back to her.

"You'll have to unlearn so much from your old Jedi training."

He said it so low that she had to step forward to hear him.

"I know. I'm prepared for that."

He turned around.

"Osha, I will show you how to take the freedom you've wanted your entire life. I remember what it was like back then. Longing to be like them. They are so adept at selling you a dream that never comes to fruition. Everything was about control. Controlling the way you think, controlling how you act, even controlling how you were supposed to feel…turning you into a mindless disciple…turning you into bland, obedient, nothingness. They build up the light side of the Force as the panacea for the galaxy, but what they truly want is to push their will on those of us who seek a more passionate life that we bend to our will. The dark side has more to offer your life than you could ever imagine. I see it in you…felt it the first time I laid eyes on you. I will show you how truly dark and divine you are, Osha."

He spoke her name with such reverence making it sound like a sacred incantation.

"I want that. All of it," she said.

His eyes held a sensual glow in the lamp light. He reached out and caressed the side of her face. The pads of his rough fingertips were warm and she leaned into his touch. Her eyelids grew heavy. Glancing at his lips she noticed the lower one housed between his teeth and her own lips parted. All she could hear in the cave was her beating heart and the silvery tone of his voice as he spoke a new code to her.

"Peace is a lie…there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken."

Osha let the words sink into her ears and his eyes sink into her soul.

"Say them to me," he said.

He rooted her in place and she didn't speak until his thumb stroked the top of her cheek.

"Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken…"

"Again," he said.

Qimir pressed his forehead against hers and swallowed each airy word from her mouth as she released them with more conviction.

"Through victory, my chains are broken," she whispered into his parted lips.

He closed his eyes and that devilish smirk quirked his lips. She pleased him.

Qimir stepped away from her and a tenuous connection to him broke inside her like a cold splash of water thrown on her head. She glanced toward the opening in the cave. Breaking away from his charged gaze reminded her that her body stank to high heaven and she itched all over to wash away days of dirt, sweat, and her old life. Qimir caught the hint and climbed out of the cave leaving her to the privacy of her own thoughts.

She plopped down on the lumpy cot. It was not as big as Qimir's which was barely a full-sized bed under Jedi standards, but big enough for her. Privacy was a new luxury and she rifled through her sister's basket of underwear and found a body towel. Poking around further she found a toiletry bag behind a standing mirror with everything she needed to take care of her hygiene. She settled on wearing a long purple tunic that had criss-cross ties that she liked. Rolling it up in the towel, Osha gathered all that she needed and went to the largest water source outside of her cave which was back down to the lagoon.

Knowing Qimir was far away she didn't hesitate to pull off her smelly clothes and jumped into the chilly water. She let out a loud shriek once the icy cold hit her filthy skin. The lagoon was less than six feet deep at its maximum depth, and she swam around first getting used to the temperature before heading into more shallow water to scrub up with the chunk of soap and shampoo her sister left behind. She laughed out loud at how stiff her nipples stayed and how goosebumps decorated her body throughout her bathing time. The sun hadn't broken free from the clouds long enough to warm up the water, and she spent six good minutes scrubbing, rubbing and rinsing. She massaged her scalp with shampoo and carefully washed each loc thoroughly before dunking her head under to rinse away dingy-colored lather. Shaking her hair, it felt lighter. She fingered her thick curly roots in sections and knew it was time to plan a day to palm roll all the new growth. She prayed her sister had some hair butter to help with that long task. Osha figured she had to have a lot tucked away somewhere because Mae had beautiful long locs before she cut them. Now that she was free to be her true self, Osha wanted to grow her own locs longer. Like Mama's.

She stood up naked in the shallow end and cradled her hands against her chest. Mama used to hum and sing to them while they sat between her legs getting their scalps oiled and hair twisted into strong ropes of magic…at least that's what Mama called their hair. When Mama was done using her nimble fingers to bind curling roots, Mother Koril would decorate their soft locs with little shiny trinkets that she made just for them. Flowers. Shells from other worlds. And colorful seeds that the coven brought with them to Brendok long before she and Mae were born.

Osha remembered how Mama told the story of how she escaped from her original home world after she was exiled for being a heretic. She braided seeds into her hair to carry on their journey, and she taught the other women how to bind their hair in that secret way to secure food sources and beauty for their new life on Brendok. When they were finally free to be themselves, they planted those seeds that provided nourishment for their bodies and wild flowers for the forest. It became a tradition forever-after to braid seeds, shells, and memories of who they had once been and would soon become in their hair. It bound them together inside the Thread of Destiny. Like the long branches of the bunta tree curving down to the ground and their locs growing like enchanted tendrils down their backs, the Thread of Destiny was interwoven into the very fabric of their lives to remind them of their purpose.

She lingered in the cold lagoon touching her soft hair, bringing back sense memory of how her life used to be before she wanted to go…with him.

Sol.

Osha splashed out of the water and dried off, fighting back tears that threatened to crumble her face into a mask of anguish. Tossing on the tunic, she sprinted back to her cave barefoot, not even bothering to stick her feet in the unlaced boots she carried. She nearly tripped and broke her ankle diving into the cave. Heat rose from her feet up to the top of her head from the exertion. She threw her bundle of dirty clothes and boots on the floor and paced for awhile to calm down.

Her emotions swelled and subsided like the tides of the sea and it grew difficult to keep from crying. She needed a task to keep her busy. Dumping the basket of clothes onto the bed, she rummaged through them to get an idea of what she had as a wardrobe. She didn't know when they'd go off-world again for supplies or anything else.

Mae's underthings and casual-wear were of high quality. Her personal style slanted toward assassin chic. Osha dug through a large duffel bag and pulled out a bundle of clothes and a heavy folded cloak—

It couldn't be. Her throat nearly closed up.

She ran her fingers across the inner lining and recognized it immediately. The royal purple coloring upon closer inspection was a patchwork quilt of material stitched together to reinforce the wearer with more warmth from the darker purple of the outer layer. Her fingers shook. It was Mama's cloak repurposed with the scraps of Mother Koril's covering and the other coverings belonging to members of their coven. Osha spread it out on the bed and a small gold cape made for a child fell out of it. It belonged to Mae. It was part of their Ascension attire and had Mae's initials stitched into the shoulder with the sigil of their double moon.

"Oh, Mae," Osha cried out as her fingers smoothed open the cape to find pieces of Mama's cowrie-shell tassels left intact.

"Mae…Mae…" she whispered, shoving the child's cape into her nose, sniffing the scent of her twin when she was a little girl.

"They made me blame you…made me hate you…all over lies. So many lies."

Osha whimpered and fell onto her side clutching Mama's cloak against her chest.

"Mama, I'm so sorry…Mother Koril, you were right…so right. Forgive me."

She lifted a beaded string of cowrie shells and a boiling rage welled up in her chest and flowed outward consuming every cell in her body. The mirror reflected her vengeful image and she stood up to look at herself fully. The purple tunic draped around her with a form-fitting regal elegance as her rage festered, bubbling to the surface like a red-hot volcano that would level an entire world if it couldn't be contained, and in that moment, Osha fed into the desire to exact retribution on every Jedi in the galaxy. She screamed out decades of lies and the pain of a stolen life, screamed for the awful deceit and subterfuge the Jedi brought to her kin until the chords in her neck strained with the horror of it all. The blazing black rage coursed through her veins and swallowed the whites and browns of her eyes until a steely onyx gaze stared back at her from the mirror. It surged higher and she watched the edges of her body burn away like vaporous midnight ash floating away as Qimir's face tethered her inside the dark embers and became her sole focus until she winked out of existence into a raging frigid vortex of spiraling darkness.

Seconds later she snapped back into the world with the wind knocked out of her.

But she was no longer in her cave.

Gasping for air, sweating profusely, and disoriented, Osha jerked left then right, trying to fathom where she was. After another solid gulp of fresh air cleared her fuzziness, she recognized her surroundings.

In her feral rage, she had somehow transported herself outside of Qimir's cave. She quickly rubbed every part of her body to make sure she was a solid being completely there and not a smoky apparition imagining herself somewhere that she wasn't. Relieved, Osha exhaled and grounded herself. She was most definitely a mile away from where she started.

Qimir stepped out from his entrance carrying a bowl of hot soup.

"I was just coming your way to bring you this in case you were…Osha?"

He stared at her with concern. Between gulps of air, Osha blurted out an explanation.

"I don't know how I got here. I was angry and screaming in my cave and then…I turned into black smoke and broke apart…disappeared and reappeared here. I don't know what happened to my body."

Qimir absorbed the otherworldly information with a sense of calm that she needed desperately.

"Well, right now you're safe and in one piece. I can feel shifting fluctuations in the Force…this is something we can work through and understand…okay?"

There was a gleam in his eye. He held out the bowl to her.

"Eat with me inside and we'll figure out what happened…together," he said.

Osha's mouth watered from the scent of the bowl and her stomach co-signed the hunger by grumbling.

Qimir gave her a sanguine smile.

"Can't fight nature, Osha. You're starving."

She stared at the bowl and the hand that held it. He was the most powerful man she had ever met in her life and he wanted her for his acolyte. The wonders and wisdom she could learn from him would shape her into the warrior she needed to be.

She reached out and took the bowl.

He stepped aside and gave her space to walk into his cave on her own volition when she was ready.

"I want to choose me this time," she said.

Her feet wouldn't move and her body still trembled as she held the bowl of soup to her side. Qimir came to her instead and pressed his lips on her forehead. The taut, hard feel of his body against her soft nakedness under the tunic broke the spell of uncertainty and she walked by his side into his home.

Chapter 5 HERE.

A.N.:

I'm going to play a lot with hair and Black women using magic because I am someone who has worn locs for over half my life and I also grew up with Hoodoo, so I know what it's like to be seen as an outsider up against b.s. (Um, the Crown Act in the U.S. and all the stigma Black folks get for practicing their own rooted African Traditional Religions etc, hello).

#The Acolyte #oshamir #osha x qimir #Star Wars Fanfiction #the acolyte fanfiction #oshamir fanfiction #Uzumaki Rebellion #osha aniseya #qimir #qimir fanfic #tethered to you

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 6 months ago

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On the morning of what looks to be Harry’s third day of laying in bed and listlessly staring at the wall, Voldemort returns after an early meeting and stares down at him. He can feel the weight of his gaze.

“Do you want me to call for your friends again?”

Harry shakes his head once. He doesn’t want to take their time when he’s such poor company.

“Are you able to walk?”

He thinks about it. “...Not at this moment, no.” His voice is hoarse from disuse.

One side of Voldemort’s mouth quirks down, and he narrows his eyes. Then, he lifts Harry into his arms (in a bridal carry, of all things. Harry would have things to say about that if he could care) and starts walking towards the ensuite bathroom. Harry slumps, resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. It feels too heavy for his neck to support right now.

“Why Voldemort, this is all so sudden.” He tries to inject some humour into his tone, but it comes out devoid of inflection.

“I simply couldn't wait any longer,” Voldemort says, dry as bones and exactly what Harry was going for.

The older man waves his hand to start filling the bathtub and sets Harry on the counter, reaching for the hem of his oversized shirt.

“Oh, I see how it is. You just wanted to get my clothes off.”

Voldemort’s lips twitch. Victory. “Curses, you’ve found me out. I’m only here for your body.”

With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, long, pale forearms stark against the dark fabric, Voldemort lowers Harry into the steaming bath. It’s almost too hot, but that just means he can feel it.

Harry lets himself slip under the water for a couple seconds to wet his hair, avoiding Voldemort’s disapproving glare when he surfaces. The other man tsks at him and starts working shampoo through his hair. The strong fingers pressing against his scalp feel heavenly, and he can’t stop himself from canting into those hands like a cat.

The silence is comfortable, but… “I thought I was getting better,” he says, quiet and monotone.

“...Recovery is not linear,” Voldemort replies. “Setbacks are to be expected. Tilt your head back,” he adds, pouring water over Harry’s hair to rinse out the suds.

As the other man lathers up a washcloth, Harry says, “You’re patient.” When Voldemort scoffs lightly, he amends, “With me.”

“Would you rather I weren’t?”

“No. I just… didn’t expect it.”

Voldemort is silent for long enough that Harry assumes he won’t answer. Which is fine. Harry’s not the only emotional minefield in this room, and he knows better than to push the other man on topics like this.

He’s also not up for a heavy conversation right now, either. They can come back to this later, when he’s feeling more alive. He closes his eyes as Voldemort washes his face, neck and shoulders, letting any tension seep out of him and drifting pleasantly.

As he rinses the soap from Harry’s upper body, Voldemort says, “I take care of what’s mine.”

Harry’s eyes slowly blink open. Oh.

“I trust you can handle the rest?” he continues before Harry can say anything in response, handing him the soap-covered washcloth.

“...Yeah, I can.” Harry hesitates, before saying, “Tell me about your meeting.”

He’s not ready to be alone again.

Voldemort obliges, relating how Lucius Malfoy and Corban Yaxley were at each other’s throat over something foolish again and how his Death Eaters are more often than not merely violent, powerful children. Harry finishes bathing as Voldemort passes along Bellatrix’s love (ugh, why) and asks him to attend the next meeting once he’s recovered. According to Voldemort, Draco Malfoy is never as entertaining as he is when Harry’s there.

And that gets a smile out of Harry, small though it may be.

(originally from The Promptening, but now part of A long, hard road)

#harry potter #tomarrymort #voldemort #either i've never shared this or i've accidentally shared it seven times #in which case #mea culpa #nonsexual intimacy #bathing #vaguely angsty fluff #fic snippet

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pezberrywhoreee · 10 months ago

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cruella x (fem) reader smut drabble!! 'the inspection'

Pairing: dom!cruella de vil (Cruella 2021) x subfem!reader

Words: 1,111

content warning: D/S relationship (heavy), degradation, mocking, cunt inspection, light mommy kink, mentions of torture

Summary: Cruella gives you some well earned attention...though not nicely or selflessly.

Note: Nobody on this planet is producing queer Cruella fanfiction and it's starting to eat away at my soul. I'll do it, bitches. I'm so disgustingly obsessed with this movie and this woman btw...i should be institutionalised. I'll try to hold back but I cannot promise anything :D. (if y'all like this, i may continue this, post it on ao3 (@faberryslut09). i just needed some to write something before i exploded from horny :))

You could already feel yourself practically leaking onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen.

Cruella hadn't explicitly ordered you to be kneeling for her by the time she arrived from a long day of hunting for the right pieces for the next collection, but you thought that it would be a sweet surprise. Plus, it was going to eventually happen that night so why not start the fun earlier?

Your head dropped and your hands clasped behind you back as the sound of the lift resounded throughout the warehouse.

The much present desperation invited a soft shake within your bare body, shivering in anticipation.

This was made more intense at the clank of the lift door opening followed by the rhythmic tapping of a cane and boots against the wood. Your breathing stopped momentarily out of fear when the sound came slower, almost feeling the need to look up but you could feel her gaze burning into your body.

The woman's evil cackle erupted in the quiet space, adding to the tension filled room. There was a hint of mischief to the laughter that sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. You tried to quiet the involuntary mewling noises rising in your throat.

"Oh darling~ how depraved". She chuckled, looking down on you, literally and figuratively.

Cruella's low, sophisticated voice never failed to bring you certain feelings of arousal and compliance. As soon as you heard that tone it was like clockwork of how instantly you were by her feet.

Your eyes fluttered shut at her mocking tone which was accompanied by her free hand in your hair, gently petting and playing for now. The trembling of your body threatened to intensify but you tried to compose it as best as you could. Much to the woman's amusement, you were still steadily shaking from the intense arousal powering your being.

Cruella began to circle your kneeling body, her cane tapping along with her. "How long have you been waiting like this, pet?". She asked, seemingly unbothered.

You kept your head down as you answered her, a betraying whine in your voice. "About half an hour, ma'am".

A refined brow shot up in response as well as a smirk tugging at her lips. "Well...consider me impressed, darling. Although you could do far better than that". She said as is if she wasn't convinced by her own praise followed by her usual condescending remarks. You felt yourself drip each time she spoke.

"On your back, I must inspect you". She commanded effortlessly. "You know how it is, pet", she whispered seductively.

Wordlessly, you placed you arms in front of you on the hardwood floor, lifting your weight to stretch you legs out and gently push yourself onto your back.

A sense of vulnerability washed over you at how she took in every inch of your body, the hunger in her eyes growing. That animalistic stare forever burned into your mind. You could feel her obsession just through her eyes.

A louder chuckle was heard from above as the light perfectly caught the small puddle that was underneath you. The woman placed her cane down and crouched down in front of you, eyeing the slick on the ground. The smirk on her face turned into a shit eating grin.

"Desperate, are we?" She mocked, her tone higher in feigned worry. A sigh left your lungs as you felt yourself clench at her tone.

You gasped as you felt the sting of her palm being brought down on your thigh. "Yes, mommy". You answered in a whimper.

She hummed her approval before fully kneeling down in front of your spread legs and groping at your flesh mindlessly.

"Were you thinking about me? About what I would do to you?". Her tone drove you fucking crazy. The lowness was one thing but her seeming lack of care made you feel like she was the only thing that existed. She had barley touched you and you could feel yourself falling into subspace.

"Yes, ma'am", you responded simply, waiting for permission to say more.

"Anything in particular, darling?". The woman asked, her fingers tracing shapes over your skin.

"I— need to be controlled and told how to please you. I will do anything— anything to feel your touch. No one can make me feel like you can. I need someone—smarter to think for me". You recited, desperation embedded in your voice.

"Oh darling~ I am quite aware that you're nothing but a stupid pet who can't think for themselves. I mean...would a non corrupt person get this wet just by thinking? I don't think so". She purred in an icy tone, her hands slowly making contact with your leaking cunt.

You felt the heartbeat in your core quicken as her thumb played with your slit, collecting some slick and rubbing it into your swollen flesh.

A loud whine escaped you when you felt her fingers part your lips, her hot breath inches from your cunt. You instantly covered your eyes with your forearms at how intensely vulnerable it was to get inspected by such a powerful gaze.

You refrained from bucking your hips at the now constant surges of arousal that all landed in your core. Air trapped in your lungs as you felt her nails dig into you thighs, each ounce of pain that she inflicted drove you further into becoming a mess for her.

"I want you to see the effect that I have on you, darling. Isn't it just so consuming?", She asked rhetorically, her glare pointed up to your face. She hummed once more when you lifted you arms away and looked down at her, unable to quiet the moan ready to make itself known.

"I believe you're more than ready to take me...but I could make you wait longer, see how much desperation you're capable of". She threatened, easily slipping her middle and ring finger inside of you due to your heavily aroused state.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull at finally feeling her inside of you after waiting so patiently.

Cruella pulled out just as quickly. "There's a spot on the floor that needs some attention, darling". She purred, referring to the mess that you made.

You instantly knew what she wanted you to do so you got on your knees once more and lowered your face to the ground. As your tongue reached the ground, your eyes fell closed in a secure sense of submission. Groaning at the taste of yourself, you lapped up every drop until the hardwood was clean.

"Good pet. How about some prolonged torture as a reward?" The woman grinned nefariously.

#cruella de vil #cruella 2021 #cruella movie #cruella smut #cruella fanfic #cruella fanfiction #cruella wlw #cruella x reader #cruella x fem!reader #smut #pezberrywhoreee #pezberrywhoreee kink

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unabashegirl · 6 months ago

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Vicious 7 || Harry Styles x mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

masterlist

Author's note: Just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined my Patreon. All the support is greatly apprechiated since it's contibuting to my education. If you don't know my mom has gotten severely sick lately and hasn't been able to pay my tuition. I've been trying to juggle writing and medical school this semester in hopes of raising enough money to help my mom support me and pay more medical school. Therefore, thank you so much to each one of that has subscribed.

Y/N regained consciousness, her body feeling heavy and drained. It took a moment for her to gather her bearings as she woke up mid-afternoon the next day. Every part of her ached, especially her injured leg where the dog had bitten her. Disoriented from sleeping for so long, Y/N's thoughts immediately turned to Giana. She hadn't been able to send her a text to let her know that she had been caught. With a sigh, Y/N pushed the blankets off her warm body and gingerly slipped out of bed.

She used the bed for leverage as she hopped towards the pile of her used clothes by the front floor. The pockets were empty. Y/N's heart raced as she frantically searched the room, tearing through drawers, lifting cushions, and rummaging through her bags in a desperate attempt to find her phone. Her hands trembled with anxiety as she realized it was nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in as she contemplated her next move.

With a determined resolve, Y/N strode towards the door, her hand reaching for the handle. But as she turned it, her heart sank. Standing before her were two imposing figures, their expressions stern and unwavering.

"You can't leave the room," one of the men stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He had a heavy irish accent. Y/N hadn’t met him or seen him before.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she met their gaze, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. She felt trapped, powerless against the forces that seemed to be closing in around her.

Y/N's frustration boiled over as she faced the two men barring her way. "What do you mean I can't leave? This is ridiculous! I need to get out of here!"

The men remained unmoved, their expressions unyielding as they reiterated, "Boss orders are clear. You're to stay in the room."

Y/N's anger flared at the mention of Harry's name. "Of course, he's behind this," she muttered under her breath, her eyes flashing with indignation.

Attempting to change the subject, one of the men interjected, "Hungry?”

Y/N's fury intensified at the casual offer of food. "I'm not hungry! I'm furious that I'm being locked in here like some prisoner!"

But the men remained stoic, their allegiance to Harry unwavering. Y/N felt a surge of helplessness wash over her as she realized the extent of Harry's control over her situation. She shut the door loudly wanting to let Harry know wherever he was that she didn’t agree with his decision.

With no distractions in the room, Y/N felt the weight of her confinement pressing down on her. She paced back and forth, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But without her phone, she was cut off from the outside world, trapped in this suffocating room.

She flopped down onto the bed, frustration gnawing at her. She needed to think, to come up with a plan. But her mind felt foggy, clouded by exhaustion and anxiety.

As she sat there, her gaze fell on the window. It offered a sliver of hope, a potential way out. But without her phone to call for help or navigate her surroundings, it seemed like an impossible escape route.

Desperation drove her to consider every possibility, no matter how slim. She had to find a way out of this room, out of this nightmare. But with each passing moment, the walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with the reality of her captivity.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N questioned as Charlie entered the room, a tray of food in hand.

"You need to eat," he stated matter-of-factly, setting the tray down on the bed. On it sat a plate of lasagna accompanied by a caprese salad. Y/N couldn't help but feel surprised by the choice of Italian cuisine, though she doubted it would compare to the flavors of home.

"I'm not hungry," she lied, though the aroma of the food made her stomach growl in protest. Despite her hunger, she knew she needed to confront Harry and demand her release.

"We aren't doing this, Y/N," Charlie warned, settling into the futon on the other side of the room.

"Exactly! We aren't doing this. Where is he? I need to talk to him," Y/N insisted. Charlie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He could sense that the rest of the day was going to be challenging. Harry had given strict orders; she wasn't allowed to leave the room for a week. He wanted her to reflect on her actions. Harry felt the urge to enforce a more severe punishment himself, but he knew better. He wanted to give her one more chance.

Charlie shook his head. "You need to keep up your strength," he insisted, gesturing to the plate. "Harry's busy right now."

"I need my phone," Y/N interjected, desperation creeping into her voice. "I need to call someone."

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Your phone? I'm not sure where it is," he said obliviously. "You probably dropped it while you were running through the woods."

Y/N's frustration grew. "This is absurd! There's nothing to do in here," she exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "I'm bored out of my mind."

Charlie sighed frustrated. "You're not allowed to leave this room," he explained. "But maybe I can bring you something to read. Would that help?" He hated that Harry had assigned him to babysit her.

Y/N brightened slightly at the prospect. "Yes, if you bring me something to read, I'll eat," she agreed, her hunger overcoming her frustration for the moment.

"Fine. Eat. Now," Charlie ordered sternly before rising from the futon. "I'll be right back."

Y/N wasted no time and began to devour the food. To her surprise, every bite of the lasagna and salad was delicious, momentarily distracting her from her confinement.

"Here," Charlie said upon his return, holding a small stack of books. He seemed taken aback that she had kept her end of the bargain. "I'm not sure what genre you prefer, but I brought you a few options." He placed the books on the bureau.

"Thanks," Y/N said gratefully, genuinely surprised that he had returned with reading material.

"The doctor will be back in a few hours to check your leg. Finish eating," Charlie reminded her before exiting the room, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts and the promise of books to pass the time.

For two days, Y/N had been confined to her room. She had devoured two books, finding solace in their pages amidst the monotony of her captivity. However, as the morning of the third day dawned, she found herself longing for the simple pleasure of fresh air.

Approaching the window, she noticed with frustration that it had been nailed shut. Harry's precautions were evident, and the realization only fueled her desire to escape the stifling confines of her room.

As she looked outside the window, she could see another man sitting right under the window on the ground floor. Guarding her just like the two big ones outside of her door.

With a sigh of resignation, Y/N decided to make the best of her situation. She filled the bathtub with hot water, allowing the steam to envelop her as she sank into the soothing embrace of the water. Closing her eyes, she let herself relax, the tension melting away with each passing minute.

After luxuriating in the bath for a while, Y/N emerged feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, she settled back onto the bed and reached for the romance novel she had been reading.

Lost in the pages of the book, she was transported to another world, one where love conquered all and happily ever after's were guaranteed. As she turned the final page, a sense of contentment washed over her.

Deciding to change out of her pajamas, Y/N opted for an ankle-length floral dress and a pair of sneakers. It was a casual choice, perhaps a bit childish, but she didn't care. After all, she had no one to impress within the confines of her room.

A few hours later, the door creaked open, shattering the quiet sanctuary of Y/N's room. Startled, she looked up to find Silas poking his head in, a small, enigmatic smile dancing on his lips. Surprise washed over her at the sight of him; she had half expected him to be buried six feet under. Since the brutal beatdown, she hadn't heard a whisper about his whereabouts.

"Let's go!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. Despite the sunglasses shielding his eyes, Y/N could discern the remnants of wounds and stitches etched across his face.

Confusion knit her brows tightly together. "Go where?" she inquired, setting her book aside and rising from the bed, a surge of curiosity flooding her senses.

"Anywhere but here," Silas responded cryptically, his gaze flickering around the room as if he anticipated an unwelcome visitor at any moment. "Come on! Before they get back!" he urged, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. "It's now or never."

Anticipation quickened Y/N's heartbeat. She had yearned for a change of scenery, even if it meant incurring Harry's wrath. Without a moment's hesitation, she nodded in agreement and followed Silas out of the room, her spirit alight with the promise of adventure.

In the dimly lit confines of his office, Harry sat behind his imposing desk, a faint scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. He had just concluded a meeting with a few individuals who had come seeking favors, their requests adding more obligations.

As he leaned back in his chair, contemplating the outcomes of the discussions, the heavy oak door swung open, admitting Charlie and Lex into the room. Both men wore expressions of composed alertness.

"Everything sorted out?" Harry inquired, his tone carrying a note of expectation.

Charlie nodded curtly. "All taken care of, boss," he confirmed, his voice tinged with a hint of deference.

Lex, ever the silent sentinel, simply offered a nod in agreement.

Satisfied with their efficiency, Harry's gaze narrowed slightly as he shifted his attention to more pressing matters. "And Y/N?" he asked, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity. "How's she been behaving?"

Charlie exchanged a quick glance with Lex before responding. "She's been... cooperative," he replied carefully, choosing his words with precision. "Keeping to herself mostly. No trouble so far."

Harry mulled over the response, his thoughts veiled behind a facade of inscrutability. Y/N's presence in his domain had been a source of unexpected complications, her defiance and attempts at escape serving as reminders of the delicate balance of power he maintained.

"Good," he remarked, his voice betraying none of the complexity swirling beneath the surface. "Keep an eye on her. We don't need any surprises”.

Leaning forward, Harry's gaze settled on Charlie with a steely intensity that brooked no argument. "I'll be paying Y/N a visit," he declared, his voice carrying a weight of authority that commanded immediate attention.

Charlie's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he composed himself. "Understood, boss," he replied, his tone respectful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. He knew all too well the implications of Harry's unexpected visit.

Harry's lips curved into a faint, calculating smile as he continued. "I want to see for myself how well she's been behaving," he explained, the subtle undertone of menace underscoring his words. "Make sure everything's in order."

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chapter 8

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