#can i have autumn already please

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

The morning was still more or less bearable, but the evening just impossible....

The heat, man. I'm fucking-

[stargirl230]

Working hard! also i miss my cat

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[biteofcherry]

This fucking heatwave 🥵💀 I don’t feel like thinking at all. Or doing anything beside staring at the wall of my bathroom as I soak in cool water. 

Sorry guys, there are some asks and some reblogs that wait for my response, but my brain is dead to the world today. Maybe in the late evening I poke at something. 

[martsonmars]

desperately trying not to have a panic attack about university hehehe

[pearlymel]

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that��”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.

[2thestars-andbeyond]

Little Rabbit

Summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. While training with Rhysand, she winnows herself to the Autumn Court by mistake and finds someone she can't seem to get off her mind..

"Just close your eyes and try again." Rhysand told me, sternly. I'm sure he was getting pretty fed up with me and my training. Plus we'd been at this for a good three hours now. "Close your eyes and concentrate."

"That's what I've been doing Rhys! And its not working!" I took a deep breath trying not to lose my temper. "I just end up five feet from where i'm standing."

Winnowing was hard and learning how to use the power was draining. Taking a seat on a near by stump, I wiped away a stay tear that started to roll down my cheek.

"Winnowing is a power not all Fae have. It takes a good deal of concentration and strength. try again Y/N. Try to think of another spot in the woods."

All the woods looked the same. Every tree the same type of maple. Every blade of grass the same shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at Rhys. "I'm not sure why you have so much faith in me winnowing anyway. I'm obviously not that good at it so i'm not sure why it matters so much."

Rhys took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "Y/n, I know you can do this. Close your eyes and try again. Focus on the tree that Azriel is standing next to."

Az just nodded at me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I always loved being in the woods especially during autumn. All the colors and cool breezes. Soon, in my minds eye, the tree behind the Shadow Singer had vibrant orange leaves and a cool breeze blew my hair. I ripped my eyes open.

"You've got to be kidding me." I whispered in disbelief. I had done it. I had finally winnowed, right into the Autumn Court...

"I knew that asshole was up to something" Rhysand had been trying for the past week to get me to winnow. I hope he's happy now.

"I know you can do it" I mocked my brother in law as I walked through the unfamiliar forest of Autumn. I knew it was a matter of time before Beron's sentries found me. Rhysands "I know you can do it" is probably going to get beheaded or whatever they do to trespassers in this Court.

I heard shuffling in the nearby bushes. I stopped so abruptly I almost fell. "Please don't be a bear or a wolf."

I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel jetted out of the bush.

"Are you lost little rabbit?"

I whirled around and bumped right into a red haired male.

"Shit." I murmured under my breath, finding it hard to find my voice.

He smirked. "You are far from home. Don't worry. I already informed Rhysand."

I had never met this male before. So how did he know who I was? He took a step around means continued down the path.

"I do have to say that it is pretty impressive that you winnowed this far away from Night. nearly four courts away. Come. We will meet your high lord somewhere safe. Beron has eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes I fear the creatures are on his side as well."

I ran to catch up with him. "Wait so you aren't going to turn me in?"

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? Hmm?" His amber eyes met mine.

His gaze was intense and nearly took my breath away. "I-it's just that i'm trespassing, correct? I was sure that would be punishable in such a cutthroat Court?"

"Oh, it is. Usually anyway, but I told Beron i'd check out the breech in the border."

We walked for what seemed like forever. Passing by tree after tree, all of them different it seemed, unlike the forest back home. Every tree different shades of Autumn colors. More vibrant than I had ever seen back in the night Court or the human lands for that matter. Before I knew it we had reached a clearing.

"Take my hand" The male told me. "Rhysand waits for you in the clearing."

I gave him a skeptical look, "Ahh. I don't see anything inside the clearing"

"Just trust me." He replied offering me his hand.

"How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know you."

"I would never let any harm come to you, Y/n." I gasped as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of crackling fire and spice engulfed me as he winnowed us into the clearing.

Rhysand, Feyre and Az appeared before me. Azriel, noting how close the male held me, drew his knife.

"Calm down Shadow Singer, she is unharmed. Aren't you little rabbit?" He asked, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

Azriel growled. but the male let me go. Taking one more look at his face, I ran into my older sisters arms. "I'm okay. " I assured them.

"Thank you Eris for keeping her safe." Rhys stated.

"It is strange though. That she winnowed so far from home." Eris mused. "Makes one wonder what drew her to a court she had never stepper foot into." With that, he disappeared.

Shocked was an understatement. The male that had saved me was the Heir of Autumn. the male every one talks so much shit about. And all I could think about was how his warm hand felt wrapped around my wrist. How his finger had gently raised my chin, how his amber eyes seemed to darken as they bore into mine.

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Neighbourhood mother

Kinktober day 14

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Main kinks: Corruption kink, lactation kink, mommy kink

Word count: 1,7K

Summary: You're young and new to the neighbourhood, Wanda quickly claims you as her own.

Warnings: smut, corruption kink, lactation kink, mommy kink, pet names, breast milk, innocent reader, mention of trauma, fingering.

(Please tell me if I forgot anything.)

You're eightteen, and you have just moved to Westview. As soon as you got into a nice university, you decided to move and get out of your toxic mother's home.

The place is beautiful, but it's definitely way too big for you alone. It's a good reason to plan on getting animals. There's not a lot you want to change about the house. There is nothing outside you want to paint, but you're planning on painting a few walls on the inside.

You're carrying boxes inside when a woman comes walking over. She has red hair and a friendly smile on her face. Her style is a bit old-fashioned, which makes her even more gorgeous.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm Wanda Maximoff, I live across the street from you." The woman extends a hand for you to shake. You put down the box you were holding and politely shake hands, her kindness makes you blush.

"Hi, my name is (y/n). I'm eightteen, I just moved here to go to a uni nearby," you introduce yourself to your new neighbour. You notice how your voice is coming out quite soft, normally you're not that shy.

Wanda looks around her at the many boxes in the bright sun. She frowns and looks back at you. "Oh, you are a young thing! Let me help you with these boxes, it's hot out and you must already be sweaty."

You don't know whether it's the kind gesture or her calling you a young thing that makes something inside tingle, but you very much know the feeling is there. "That's sweet, thank you. But don't go out of your way to help me, I'm fine on my own." You pick up the box again.

"Nonsense, a young girl like you needs someone in the neighbourhood to help her out sometimes. That's what I am for." You can't quite make out why her facial expression looks strange, so you shake it off.

~

You have been living in Westview for over a month. Autumn feels so much better here than in your old house, your old town. And you've got Wanda, who is coming over today to decorate your house for the fall together.

Ever since that first day, Wanda has been by your side. She is always there to help you, but she also often comes over for nothing at all. Sometimes, she even cooks for you, which can variate from inviting you over for dinner at her house to coming to yours with ingredients and just cooking dinner. She has been taking on an almost mothering role. For the first time in your life, you feel cared for.

A knock on the door rips you out of your thoughts. You run to the door to open it. "Mo- Wanda!" You hope she didn't hear that awful slip up when she walks in and hugs you.

"Hello sweetheart, how are you today?" When Wanda pulls away from the hug, she gently holds your face. Looking into her green eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you love them.

"I'm okay." There is no better answer because you always feel okay when you're with her. It's as if you forget all your problems when she walks through the doorway.

"I'm glad, but you know you can come to me with anything, right?" Wanda walks into the living room and puts down a bag with crafty stuff.

You know you can tell her anything. She has often helped you do your homework, she has come over to help you sleep when you were scared all alone in the house, she will basically help you with anything. So you nod a yes.

~

"Can you put these webs up there?" Wanda hands you some of the fake cobwebs you made together. The past few hours have been fun. You first made decorations together, all autumn and Halloween themed. Now you are putting decorations up around the house.

You take the cobwebs from her and put a chair to reach the place she pointed at. "Sure!" You get on the chair and put the cobwebs in place, but then you place your foot weirdly, which takes the chair out of balance. You're too late to yelp out when you fall hard on the floor.

Wanda rushes over to you, so you quickly wipe away your tears. "Oh baby, are you okay? I'm so sorry, that must hurt so bad."

Tears come out again at her words, and you quickly wipe them away. You see a bruise forming on your knee and quickly hide it. Your instincts say she will get mad at you for being in pain, but something in you knows that she wouldn't. Deep down you know that is just trauma speaking. You speak in a broken voice, "I'm fine."

She gently takes your hands off your knee. "No, sweetheart, you're not. You are clearly in pain. Why are you hiding it?" She kisses your knee. It sents warm sparks through your body. "Come sit with me on the couch. We can finish this later."

~

"I can't imagine how you must've felt. But I promise you, I will always care for you in the way your parents didn't." Wanda is cuddled up with you on the couch. You are in tears, you've just told your whole story to her.

"Thank you, Wands." You put your head in her lap, looking up at her face framed by her curly hair. She is so beautiful. Her comfort only makes you cry more, for some reason.

"Baby, are you still in pain?" The older woman gives you a worried look. She genuinely thinks you're still crying because of the fall.

"Just emotional." You bury your face in her legs. This way, you can't see how Wanda smiles. You are finally her baby, her girl to take care of. She strokes your hair, gently combing it through with her fingers.

Wanda carefully pulls your chin up a bit so you can see her when she speaks. "I know something that'll make you feel better." She takes off her jumper, which makes your jaw drop.

"Wan-" you start but she cuts you off.

"Shhh, just do as I say. I will take care of you." She unclasps her bra, exposing her breasts. You close your eyes and look away out of manners, but she tuts you and grabs your chin.

"No baby, open your eyes." Wanda guides your mouth to her nipple by your chin. You wrap your lips around her nipple. "Good girl, so good for me," she says in a raspy voice. You look up at her and start sucking and softly nibbling.

Her fingers go down underneath your shirt. You then let out a shocked, whimpering noise. Not only because of her hands touching your sensitive waist, but also because a fluid has come into your mouth from her nipple, something you really didn't expect.

"It's okay, baby. You can drink it, but please switch to the other one in some time." The redhead's voice brings you back to ease. You drink the sweet milk like she told you to. Meanwhile, her hand slips into your loose joggers, softly rubbing you over your panties.

You whimper softly and switch nipples, looking up at her for reassurance. She hushes you, telling you it's okay and that she's just making you feel good. You kind of start to feel icky down there, so you're a bit confused, but you have faith in her.

When you tend to nibble on her nipple a bit too hard, Wanda quickly pinches your thigh to make you gasp. "Sweety, if you want to nibble, I would prefer if you did it on mommy's neck. That's less sensitive." She guides your milk leaking mouth to her neck so you can carelessly nibble there.

Your whimpers get louder when she slips her fingers in your undies, touching your private parts. It feels intense but good, even though it makes you feel all shy.

"Pretty little thing. You're doing amazing. Just let me do this." Wanda's finger slips in the hole where all the wetness comes from. It feels really weird but adds to the intensity.

She first slips her finger in and out, the sticky wetness your body created there makes that really easy. She then keeps her finger inside and curls it into the walls of your pussy, which makes you audibly gasp.

When after a bit of playing, she adds another finger, you completely let go of the nibbling and sucking. "Mommy, that hurts!" You cry out at the stretch, but as soon as the pain has come, it is gone, leaving a full and intense feeling.

At first, you were trying really hard to keep in all the noises she worked out of you, but then you started to let go. When Wanda didn't get mad for the noise, you knew it was okay and let it all out, including sobs. Wanda rewarded you heavily for this.

Wanda is so proud of you, continuing to work your body in the way she knows to. With all previous girls she has fucked, it would take her time to figure out how they liked it. That's how she knows you are meant for her, she knows exactly what to do.

She keeps switching between thrusting and curling up her fingers. She also adds in a bit of extra clit stimulation, knoding you are almost there. And indeed, a wave of pleasure crashes over you, reaching a high. "That's a good girl."

You sob from the intense feeling, she keeps rubbing your clit through it, until you quite literally shake her off. You cuddle back into her, Wanda's lips find yours. She softly kisses you in a caregiving way. A tired feeling suddenly hits you, making you yawn. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up." That's how you softly fall asleep in Wanda's arms.

~

A/N - I'm so sorry for fucking this up again, I hope you still enjoyed reading it even though it is again too short and written whilst I was half asleep. I'll be better next time.

[the-fiction-witch]

Would you want to marry me Benji?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Y/n Mason (Misc house) Rating - Cute Word Count - 2237

Writer notes - I have not yet seen S2 I am going to watch it when all Episodes are out to the public. but he was requested so so much I have Wikied Him, I have done research I have watched the scene. But this is my first Benjicot Fic, I haven't seen the show yet, so Please I beg. Be kind to me. 

Y/n sat cradled by the roots of house Blackwood's fabled weirwood heart tree, shaded from the autumn sun by the busses of red leaves grown in for the long cool winter, She wore a gown of deep grey with red and black accents, her dark curls in a long intricate braid down her back littered with leaves made from copper as jewellery, a matching copper locket around her neck, She hums a soft and gentle tune a bundle of cloth in her lap as she slowly embroiders

A soft smile crossed Benjicot's face when he sees her there, He slowly approached her, his boots crunching on the leaves. "Y/n," Benjicot said softly. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Enjoying the afternoon is all my lord," she answered sweetly,

"Are you not lonely, all alone by this tree? Would you not like some company?" Benjicot said with a grin on his face, sitting down beside her against the roots,

"I'm never lonely my lord, with the gods to keep an eye on me" she smiled glancing at the tree-carved face, "but I suppose company wouldn't be ill wanted,"

Benjicot gave a hum in agreement, looking up at the Weirwood as well, before shifting his gaze back to her. "I'm sure the gods are a wonderful company, but they cannot offer you witty banter."

"I suppose not my lord" she nodded,

"Then I can consider my presence a blessing from the gods themselves," Benjicot said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He leaned closer to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"Absolutely my lord" she agreed,

Benjicot chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her being so close to him. He was quiet for a moment, their shoulders touching, before speaking again. "What are you embroidering?" He asked, peering at the bundle of cloth in her lap.

"A gift, my elder sister sent a raven to me this morning. She is with child, I wanted to make a her a gift for the babe,"

"That's wonderful," Benjicot said, a warm smile on his face. "A gift is a thoughtful gesture, I'm sure she'll appreciate it greatly." He leaned closer to her, inspecting the embroidered cloth more closely. "What are you making for her?"

"a swaddle and blanket for the baby, I've already picked the softest fabric and now I'm embroidering it, with the heraldry of the houses coming together, so the babe may know of his history, this traditional,"

Benjicot looked impressed and he nodded approvingly at her project. "That's a beautiful idea," he said, his eyes wandering over the embroidery design. "I'm sure it will be treasured by your sister and her child." He shifted even closer to her, their thighs now touching, enjoying the intimacy of their closeness.

"I'm sure she will, my mother keeps threatening to make me a wedding gown," she chuckled,

Benjicot chuckled as well, amused by the thought of her in a wedding gown. "And what do you say to that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you plan on getting married soon?"

"I have nothing to say, I have very little say in it," she chuckled, "My father will make a match and I shall marry him, such is the way of things my lord," she explained,

Benjicot's smile faltered slightly at her words. "You don't mind having no say in something so important as your future husband?" He shifted his body so that he was facing her fully, his eyes studying her features intently.

"Such is the way," she shrugged, "for my sister's, for my mother, and her mother and her mother and so on,"

Benjicot furrowed his brow, not satisfied with her answer. "But what if you don't like this theoretical husband your father picks? Or what if he's cruel? Or unfaithful?"

"I shall have to do my duty," she said sadly,

Benjicot's expression softened and he reached out to gently brush some of her hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for a moment. "You deserve better than a future arranged solely out of duty, Y/n."

"thank you, my lord, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. My sisters are all wedded and now all either with children or have them. I don't imagine Father will leave me unmarried for much longer"

Benjicot's hand dropped from her neck, his gaze darkening at her words. The thought of her being married off to some faceless stranger left a bitter taste in his mouth. "No offence to your father, but I think he might be blind if he doesn't at least consider me a blackwood as a potential suitor," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

she chuckled "I'm sure he considers your family my lord,"

Benjicot smiled at her reaction, glad to make her laugh. He shifted his position, his knee brushing against hers under the fabric of her skirt. "Then I pray that my family is considered highly in his estimation," he said with a grin. "For your sake, of course."

"Why? Would you want to marry me Benji?" She teased,

Benjicot chuckled softly, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips. "And why wouldn't I want to marry you? You're beautiful, clever, kind..." He leaned in a little closer to her, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "It could be a match made by the gods themselves."

she giggled, "That's too sweet of you my lord,"

Benjicot's grin widened at her giggle. "Only speaking the truth." He looked into her eyes, his own gaze warm and affectionate. "In all seriousness, Y/n," he said, his voice low and serious now, "the thought of you being married off to some man who treats you with anything less than respect and kindness... It does not sit with me well."

"no?"

Benjicot shook his head. "No." For a moment he was silent, his expression soft as he looked at her face, taking her in. "I don't wish to see you given to someone who doesn't deserve you," he said quietly. "You deserve someone who treats you well, who respects you and makes you happy. That's how it should be, for someone like you."

"And whom would you suggest?"

Benjicot raised his eyebrow at her question, his expression suddenly amused. "Oh, I don't know," he began, feigning ignorance. "Maybe me?" His tone was light, but the suggestion was serious. Benjicot looked into her eyes, waiting to see her reaction.

She blushed "... I would like that, but it's not up to me whom I marry,"

Benjicot reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps I could help you change that," he said softly, a spark of determination in his eyes. Benjicot leaned closer to her, his arm now resting on the ground near her hip, his body angled towards hers. "What if you did not have to marry whomever your father chooses?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "What if you could marry me instead?"

"I'd like that very much,"

Benjicot felt his heart swell with relief and joy at her words. A gentle smile spread across his face and he reached out to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "Then I will try to make it happen," he promised, his voice suddenly filled with determination. "I will go to your father and request your hand. I won't let anyone else have you." Benjicot beamed at her. The mere thought of making her his bride had filled him with a sense of joy and contentment that he had never felt before. "You should prepare yourself to have the most obnoxiously devoted husband in the realm," he said with a grin. "I plan on spoiling you rotten, my dear."

"I have no doubt my lord," she nodded, "Are you to see him now?"

Benjicot nodded. "I'll seek your father out, speak to him about this, and hopefully he'll give his blessing." He got to his feet, looking down at her with a slightly anxious expression. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

She nodded getting to her feet and taking his hand in hers standing on her tip toes to press a tender kiss to his forehead, "Good luck Benji,"

Benjicot felt his heart skip a beat at the feeling of her soft lips on his forehead. He reached up to touch the place where she had kissed him as if to prolong the sensation. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, looking into her eyes. "I won't be long. Wait here for me?"

"I will I promise," she nodded, "And last I saw him he was in the courtyard," She smiled doing her best to help him seek out her father,

Benjicot felt strangely calm, but still nervous despite himself. He wanted her father's blessing, he wanted her. "Thank you, Y/n," he said with an affectionate smile. "I'll see you soon." With that, he turned and walked off towards the courtyard.

When arriving at the courtyard he found the place busy as usual, and Y/n's father lord Mason sharpening his sword with the blacksmith, Benjicot approached the man, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the conversation to come. He stopped a few feet away, clearing his throat to get the lord's attention. "Lord Mason?" he said politely.

He glanced up glancing at the young lord before returning focus to his blade, "Lord Blackwood, to what do I owe this visit?"

Benjicot swallowed back his nerves and stood up a little straighter. "I came to talk with you about your daughter Y/n," he said, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Y/n? ... Y/n..." Her father pondered, "Ahh short one? Curls like mulberry stem? And tits like a river lands milkman?" That one?"

Benjicot couldn't help the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice going a little higher than he would have liked. "That one."

"AHH, do forgive me, my lord. Six daughters hard to keep them straight" Benjicot chuckled at that, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Understandable, my lord. It is quite a large family, after all."

"so? What about her?"

Benjicot took a deep breath and met the lord's gaze. "I've come to request your blessing," he said evenly. "I wish to ask for Y/n's hand in marriage."

"marriage?" He chuckled "You sure? I have two more unmarried daughters you are welcome to take your pick of them,"

Benjicot's eyes darkened slightly at the lord's words. "With all due respect, my lord," he said, "I do not want any of your daughters but Y/n. She is the one I wish to marry."

"you like the tits?" He joked,

Benjicot's face reddened even further, but he held steady. "With all due respect, my lord, your daughter is more than just... tits," he said firmly. "She is witty and kind and beautiful, and I would be honoured to call her my wife."

"... Alright, you marry her, You make her lady blackwood, and you give her children. That a deal?"

Benjicot felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed immediately by a pang of anxiety. This was really happening. "Yes, my lord," he said, his voice steady. "I will marry her, make her lady Blackwood, and give her children. I swear it on my honour."

"then you have my permission to wed her," he nodded returning focus to his sword,

Benjicot felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A wide grin broke out on his face as he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my lord. You won't regret this, I swear." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, practically jogging back to the Weirwood tree where he had left Y/n.

Y/n sat under the weirwood patiently waiting doing her embroidery,

Benjicot came to a stop a few feet away, watching her quietly for a moment. He still couldn't quite believe that not only had he asked for her hand, but her father had granted it. It all seemed almost too good to be true. He cleared his throat, a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "I have great news, my dear," he said, barely containing his excitement.

"oh enlighten me my lord," she smiled,

Benjicot stepped closer to her, his smile now so wide it was bordering on a grin. "Your father has given me his blessing to ask for your hand in marriage," he said, his voice full of joy. "I am to make you my wife."

"truely!"

"Truly," Benjicot agreed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Our marriage is practically guaranteed," he said softly. "Soon, you will be mine. Lady Blackwood." Benjicot chuckled, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Seeing her giggle and blush because of him, just because he had called her "Lady Blackwood" stirred something in him. He gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek, his gaze affectionate. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are when you blush like this, darling?"

she giggled again and wrapped her arms around his torso squeezing him in a sweet hug "You're going to be the best husband Benji,"

Benjicot chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. Her warmth against his body felt like bliss. he said, his voice full of affection. "Nand you shall be the best wife in all of westeros,” 

[lila-lou]

✨Pumpkin Spice Latte✨

Summary: After a rough hunt leaves Dean bruised and exhausted, the last thing he’s up for is a Halloween party.

-Halloween-Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Age Gap, Language, Fluff, Dean being in pain

Word Count: 6041

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💛

Dean wrinkled his nose, glaring at the cup you'd just shoved into his hand. "What the hell is this? It smells like shit!", he grumbled, giving the cup a suspicious look. He was already settled in the driver’s seat, clearly not thrilled with whatever concoction you'd handed him.

You chuckled, tossing your handbag into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat. "Relax, Dean", you said, grinning as you leaned over and snatched the cup back from him. "It's a pumpkin spice latte—the best thing on earth".

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced. "Pumpkin what? Since when do pumpkins belong in coffee?".

You just laughed, taking a sip and savoring the sweet, spiced warmth. "Since forever, you just haven't lived until you’ve tried it".

Dean gave a low grunt, his eyes flicking from the road to the cup in your hand, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure, whatever makes you happy". He muttered something about it being "a waste of perfectly good coffee" under his breath, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he started the Impala.

You watched Dean out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the wet road ahead. The rain tapped rhythmically against the windshield, blurring the autumn scenery. The streets were lined with wet, brown leaves, clinging to the pavement from the downpour. It was October 31st, Halloween, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of what was coming tonight.

"So", you began, teasingly dragging out the word as you took another sip of your pumpkin spice latte, "you really going to keep sulking about the party, or are you going to try and enjoy yourself tonight?".

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his eyes on the road, the Impala’s wipers swishing back and forth as they cleared the rain. "I told you, I’m too old for that crap", he grumbled. "Costumes and fake blood? I’m living that nightmare every day. Don’t need to do it for fun".

You couldn't help but laugh softly, turning to fully face him. "Oh, come on, Dean. You're not that old". You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the console, grinning mischievously. "Besides, you promised you'd come. You can handle one night of normal fun, right? Maybe even dance a little".

He gave you a sidelong glance, his lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a heavy sigh. "Normal fun? Is that what we're calling this?".His voice was thick with sarcasm, but you noticed the faintest hint of a smile creeping up as he continued. "I swear, if anyone tries to put me in some ridiculous costume—".

"Relax, grumpy", you interrupted, laughing again. "I already picked out something easy for you. You just have to show up and look hot, which, lucky for you, you do naturally".

Dean scoffed but finally turned to give you a quick look, his green eyes flashing with amusement. "Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m putting up with this at all. Only reason I’m going is ‘cause you’re twenty-five and apparently this kind of stuff is still a thing for you".

You reached over, resting your hand on his knee. "And that’s why you’re the best. But seriously, it won’t be that bad. Just a few hours, a few drinks, and then you can come back to being your broody, old self". You winked, knowing how to push his buttons just enough to get that reaction out of him.

Dean groaned dramatically, shaking his head as the Impala cruised down the slick streets. "I don’t know what I got myself into with you, sweetheart".

You grinned, settling back into your seat, the warmth of the car contrasting with the cold, rainy night outside. "You’re gonna have fun, Winchester. You just wait".

Dean pulled the Impala smoothly to a stop in front of your apartment complex, the rumble of the engine quieting as he turned off the ignition. The rain had softened to a steady drizzle, but the streets were still slick, shimmering under the streetlights. You glanced over at him with a small smile, grateful he’d driven you home instead of making some excuse to drop you off and head back to whatever hunt he had lined up next.

Every now and then, you managed to convince him to stay at your place, craving at least a few hours of something that felt like a normal relationship. Over time, Dean had slowly gotten used to the idea, and now your apartment was almost as much his as it was yours. He had a drawer in your bedroom, his favorite flannel hung in your closet, and you were pretty sure he had stashed at least two knives and a flask of holy water somewhere between your kitchen and your living room.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool evening air, you reached into the backseat to grab your handbag, then made your way towards the stairs. Dean followed behind, the sound of his boots heavy on the rain-slicked steps. You felt his presence just behind you, a constant, reassuring force in your life that somehow made everything feel safer, even when you both knew it never really was.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, you turned to him with a smirk and held out your pumpkin spice latte again. “Hold this”, you teased, already anticipating his eye roll.

Dean stared at the cup like it personally offended him but took it from your hands with a reluctant sigh. “You really gonna make me carry this thing again?”, he muttered, though the playful glint in his eyes told you he didn’t mind as much as he let on.

You shrugged, turning back to unlock the front door. “Hey, consider it training. Maybe someday you’ll be converted to the greatness of pumpkin spice”.

“Not a chance in hell”, Dean grumbled behind you, though his tone was lighter now, more relaxed.

You unlocked the front door to the building, the soft click barely audible over the rain still pattering outside. Dean followed you inside, as you climbed the short flight to your apartment on the first floor. The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of old wood and rain-soaked leaves, familiar and comforting in a strange way. Dean, though, had that ever-present edge about him, his eyes darting briefly to every shadow, every dark corner, even in this quiet space. It was his nature to be alert, always ready for whatever might come.

You reached your apartment door and dug the keys out of your bag, glancing at him as you slid the key into the lock. “You know, you could relax, Dean. I promise there’s nothing lurking in the hallway tonight”.

Dean huffed softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, right. You never know. Last thing I need is to get jumped by a demon on a coffee run”. He handed you the cup again, shaking his head. “Here, take your damn pumpkin milk. Thing’s probably cursed”.

You chuckled, taking the cup back as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the apartment immediately wrapping around you. “No demons tonight”, you promised, stepping out of your shoes by the door. “Just you, me, and some quality time before we have to deal with the craziness later”.

Dean followed you inside, his usual routine kicking in. He tossed his keys on the small table near the entrance, his eyes sweeping the room in his typical hunter way, as if something might have changed in the time you’d been gone. It hadn’t, of course—everything was just as it always was, cozy and familiar.

You placed your latte on the kitchen counter, watching him as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. Despite the tough exterior, there was a comfort Dean found here, whether he’d admit it or not. He didn’t need to be on high alert every second he was with you, and in moments like this, you could see the faintest bit of ease slip into his posture.

“Feels good to be back here”, you said softly, moving to stand beside him. “Even if you don’t like to admit it”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a slight grin. “I don’t dislike it”. He glanced around as if contemplating his next words. “You got room for all my crap here now anyway. Might as well use it”.

You smiled, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “That’s a start”.

You watched Dean with a quiet smile as he settled in, kicking off his boots and grabbing a beer from your fridge without so much as a word. It had taken time for him to feel at home here, but now, it was second nature. You knew he would never fully leave the bunker or Sammy—that was his world, his responsibility. But nights like this, when you could have him here, even for a little while, it was all you asked for.

Slipping off your coat, you draped it over the chair by the kitchen and made your way towards the double glass doors that led out to the small balcony. The rain was heavier now, coming down in sheets and turning the streetlights outside into glowing halos in the mist. You stood there for a moment, listening to the familiar hum of the rain as it splashed against the balcony, the rhythmic sound somehow making everything feel even cozier inside.

Turning back, you caught sight of Dean on the couch, already making himself comfortable. He had plopped down heavily, his beer in one hand as he took a long drink. His flannel had ridden up slightly in the process, exposing a strip of skin along his stomach, the curve of muscle there a casual reminder of just how strong he really was. He glanced over at you, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”, he asked, his eyebrow raised in that typical, playful way, though you could see the weariness just beneath the surface.

He had only been back for a day after spending over two grueling weeks on the East Coast with Sam and Cas, hunting down a particularly nasty group of demons. It was a brutal case, by the sound of it—full of close calls, too many injuries, and not enough rest.

You could still see the faint marks of it on him now. Scratches over his arms, a bruise along his jawline that hadn’t quite faded yet, and the way he moved, just a little too carefully, told you his ribs were still aching. But Dean being Dean, he’d never admit to being in pain. Too proud. Too stubborn. It was like he wore his injuries like another layer of armor, determined not to show weakness, even when he was home with you.

But despite all that, despite the rough edges and the exhaustion he carried like a weight on his shoulders, you had missed him more than you could put into words. And now, just seeing him here, sprawled out on your couch, looking so effortlessly Dean with that lazy grin and the hint of his v-line peeking out from beneath his flannel, you felt a surge of warmth run through you. It pooled low in your belly, a slow heat building at the simple sight of him, all muscle and raw presence, even in his most relaxed state.

Heat rising to your cheeks as you tore your gaze away from his exposed skin, trying not to let it show just how much you had missed everything about him. But Dean, of course, noticed.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice rough, but teasing, as he took another slow sip of his beer. His eyes were on you now, sharp despite the tiredness behind them, and you could feel that familiar pull between the two of you, like an unspoken challenge.

You shook your head slightly, trying to play it cool, though you could feel the heat still simmering beneath your skin. “Just… glad you’re home”, you said softly, your voice carrying more weight than you intended. You met his gaze again, knowing full well he could see right through you, but in moments like this, you didn’t care.

Dean set his beer down on the table, leaning back into the couch, his eyes still locked on you. “Yeah?”, he asked, his voice a little softer now. “I missed you, too”. There was no teasing in his tone this time, just honesty, plain and simple, and it hit you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You crossed the room and sat beside him, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours, even though he was still being careful not to show just how sore he really was. You reached out, your hand resting gently on his side, just above where you knew his broken rib was, and he flinched, just a little. “Dean…”, you started, your voice quiet as you brushed your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“I told you I’m fine”, he muttered, that stubborn edge creeping back into his voice as he glanced away. But you could feel how tightly he was wound, the pain he was hiding, and it tugged at your heart.

You gave him a look, one that you knew would cut through his defenses. “You don’t always have to be fine, you know”.

Dean sighed, his shoulders dropping just a little as he looked back at you. His expression softened, and for a moment, the tough hunter exterior slipped away. “Yeah, well… old habits”, he murmured, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

Without saying anything, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, careful not to aggravate any of his bruises, and you felt him relax, just a little, under your touch. “Just… let me take care of you tonight”, you whispered against his skin, your lips brushing the edge of his stubble. “You’ve been through enough”.

Dean closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as if he was finally letting himself take in the comfort you were offering. His arm came around you, pulling you in closer, and you could feel the tension melting from his body, even if just for a moment.

“Alright”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, “but don’t go thinking this makes me soft”.

You chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to his jaw, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Winchester”.

Dean let out a low hum, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like the world outside had finally quieted.

You grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, letting the soft murmur of the background noise fill the room. A movie, maybe something familiar, began playing as you stood up, casting one last glance at Dean, who was already half-lost in the feel of the couch beneath him, his eyes lazily following you as you made your way toward the bedroom.

The door was open, giving Dean a clear view from where he sat, and you could feel his eyes on you as you reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head. The soft fabric fell to the floor, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you stripped down to your underwear. You knew Dean was watching, his gaze heating up the space between you, and despite the comfort of the moment, the tension between you remained undeniable, lingering in the air like a spark waiting to catch fire.

You moved to your drawer, rummaging through for something cozy to slip into, all while feeling Dean’s eyes still fixed on you.

You smiled to yourself as your fingers brushed against one of Dean’s flannels, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. It had practically become yours by now, a constant fixture in your drawer because, if you were being honest, you loved wearing his clothes just as much as he loved seeing you in them. There was something comforting about it—the way it smelled faintly of him, how the sleeves were just a bit too long on you. It was like wrapping yourself in his presence, even when he wasn’t around.

You slipped it on, the familiar fabric brushing against your skin, warm and soft, the scent of Dean still lingering faintly on it. As you buttoned it up, you could feel the way his gaze lingered on you from the other room, a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through you.

Turning slightly, you caught a glimpse of him from the doorway. Dean had shifted on the couch, his body tense in that subtle way he tried to hide, the beer now forgotten on the table beside him. His green eyes were locked on you, darker now, his focus entirely on the way the flannel draped over your frame. You knew what he was thinking without him having to say a word.

The way the flannel clung to you, oversized but unmistakably his, seemed to ignite something in him. It made it clear that, despite everything—the danger, the hunts, the weeks spent apart—you were his. And you knew it, too. The way his eyes darkened when you wore his clothes, that quiet possessiveness that was always just under the surface, was something you both understood without words.

You stepped out of the bedroom and crossed the room, feeling the warmth in his gaze follow you. When you got close enough, Dean reached out, his hand catching yours, gently tugging you toward him.

You obliged without hesitation, letting Dean pull you down onto his lap. His hands immediately settled on your hips, his grip firm but gentle, the warmth of his touch spreading through the thin fabric of the flannel. You could feel the solidness of him beneath you, the tension in his muscles slowly unraveling as you leaned into him.

Dean’s green eyes were locked on yours, dark and intense, filled with that familiar mix of desire and something deeper—something that told you just how much he had missed you, how much you meant to him. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist, tracing lazy circles over the flannel, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You have any idea what you do to me?”, he muttered, his voice low, rough, barely above a whisper. His hands tightened slightly on your hips as he pulled you just a little closer.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you shifted in his lap, the movement making him let out a low groan from deep in his chest. “Maybe”, you teased, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “But I like hearing you say it”.

Dean chuckled softly, though it was thick with that familiar edge of want. His hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against him, his lips grazing your neck as he spoke, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “You’re driving me crazy”.

You shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck, your fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt. “Good”, you whispered, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a teasing, feather-light kiss.

Dean’s grip tightened at your waist, and before you could pull away, he captured your lips with his, the kiss deepening instantly. It was full of everything that had been building between you—the weeks of being apart, the constant danger, the unspoken need for each other that seemed to intensify every time you were together. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you close as his lips moved against yours, slow and intense, like he was savoring every second.

You melted into him, your body fitting perfectly against his, the familiar scent of leather, rain, and Dean filling your senses. His other hand roamed over your back, his touch both gentle and possessive, like he needed the physical reassurance that you were here, with him, right now.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in shallow bursts, you rested your forehead against his, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes were still dark, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, but there was a softness in his expression now, a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”, you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “You’re stuck with me”.

Dean’s eyes softened at your words, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he smiled, that rare, genuine smile that he only ever gave you. “I’m counting on it”, he murmured, his voice rough but full of warmth.

You shifted slightly in his lap, and there was no mistaking the growing tension between you as you felt his arousal pressing against you, straining against his jeans. Heat pooled low in your belly, and you bit your lip, your mind already drifting toward the thought of pushing things further.

But then your eyes flicked down to his side, where you knew his injured rib was hidden beneath his shirt, still healing from the hunt. You could almost feel the dull ache he must’ve been pushing through, despite how well he masked it with his usual bravado.

Your fingers brushed lightly over his chest, just above where the injury sat, and you glanced up at him, concern softening the heat that had been building. “You think a little… fun is going to hurt too much?”, you murmured softly, your voice full of both tease and care, your gaze flicking back to the spot where his broken rib was.

Dean let out a soft, low chuckle, his hands still resting firmly on your hips as he shook his head slightly. “Trust me, sweetheart”, he said, his voice rough, but there was a playful gleam in his eyes. “It’ll hurt more if we don’t”. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

You let out a quiet sigh, your body instinctively responding to his touch, but still, you couldn’t help the slight worry that lingered in the back of your mind. You didn’t want to push him, not when he was still healing, even if he was far too stubborn to admit when he needed rest.

“Dean”, you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still lightly tracing over the spot where his rib was. “I don’t want to hurt you. You should be resting”.

Dean’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin as he held your gaze, his expression softening just a little. “I’m fine”, he murmured, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “Yeah, it aches, but nothing I can’t handle”. He smirked then, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Besides, there are worse ways to deal with pain”.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your heart fluttering at the familiar mix of playfulness and affection in his words. But still, you gave him a look, making sure he knew you weren’t entirely convinced.

He sighed softly, his hand sliding down to your waist again, his touch warm and steady. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll stop”, he promised, his eyes serious now. “But right now… I want you”.

Those last words sent a shiver through you, and the heat that had been simmering between you flared back to life. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you deepened the kiss, pouring all your pent-up desire and affection into the moment.

Dean groaned softly against your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you even closer, the tension between you palpable now.

You shifted back slightly, settling more comfortably on his thighs to give yourself enough room to work. The tension between you two was electric, and you could feel Dean’s gaze fixed on you, his eyes dark and filled with anticipation as you reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft click of the metal filled the quiet room, followed by the slow, deliberate sound of his zipper being undone.

Dean’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling beneath you as you teased him, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his jeans as you worked. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip tightening just slightly, as if he was barely holding himself back from taking control. But he let you set the pace, his patience a quiet reminder of how much he trusted you, how much he wanted you.

As you continued to ease his jeans and boxers down, Dean shifted his hips upward slightly, making it easier for you to pull the fabric down and free his hard length.

You took a moment to fully appreciate the sight of him, his arousal prominent and hard, the anticipation clear in the way his body tensed beneath you. You could feel the way his breathing grew more ragged, the muscles in his thighs tightening with the effort of holding himself in check.

You bit your lip, savoring the charged moment between you. With careful, deliberate movements, you took his length in your hand, feeling the heat and firmness of him. Dean’s breath hitched as you wrapped your fingers around him, his gaze locked on you, dark with desire.

As you shifted slightly, positioning yourself to align with him, Dean’s hands moved instinctively to guide you. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers brushing aside the fabric of your underwear to help you line up perfectly.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you carefully began to sink onto him. The sensation was intense, and even after being together for over three years, his size still took a moment to adjust to, and his reaction to your tightness was immediate. Dean’s breath caught in his throat, his grip on your hips tightening as he watched you with a mix of awe and desire.

“Damn, you’re tight”, he murmured, his voice rough with the effort of holding back. He tried to keep his tone light, teasing, but there was a clear edge of need in his words. “You trying to kill me here?”.

You smiled mischievously, a playful glint in your eye. “Maybe just trying to remind you of how good you’ve got it”, you teased, intentionally clenching around him with a slow, deliberate movement.

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a groan escaping his lips as he fought to maintain control. “Damn it”, he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl.

As you sank down completely, the full intensity of the connection took your breath away, every nerve alive with sensation. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on Dean's broad shoulders, the strength in them reassuring under your touch.

Dean's eyes opened again, locking onto yours with that fiery intensity that always managed to send shivers down your spine. "You sure you can handle this?", he teased, his voice a low rumble mixed with genuine concern for your comfort.

"I think the question is, can you handle it?", you retorted with a playful smirk, shifting slightly to adjust to the depth. The movement elicited a sharp inhale from Dean, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

You began to move, finding a steady pace, each movement synchronized to maximize the deep, intense connection. Dean watched you intently, his gaze never wavering, completely captivated by every expression that flickered across your face.

The room was filled with the sound of your synchronized breathing and the subtle shift of fabric as you moved together. Each of Dean's responses drove you further, his body reacting instinctively to yours, his touches and movements growing more confident and assertive.

"You feel amazing", Dean groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he absorbed every sensation. His words were laced with both pleasure and a bit of awe, as if even after years, the depth of your intimacy could still surprise him.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering softly, "Just keep up with me". The challenge was gentle but clear, and you could feel Dean's resolve firming. He shifted his grip, finding a new angle that drew a deep moan from your lips, clearly pleased with your reaction.

The pace quickened naturally, driven by mutual need and the profound connection you shared. Dean's hands explored your back, tracing lines of fire with every touch, his fingers pressing into your skin in encouragement and desire.

The world outside faded completely, leaving only the two of you lost in the rhythm and rush of overwhelming sensation. Every movement, every touch, was a reaffirmation of the deep, enduring bond between you, pushing each other towards a peak that was both intense and incredibly intimate.

As Dean hit all the right spots, the pleasure built rapidly within you. Each movement seemed to push you closer to the edge, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Your moans grew louder, each sound a testament to how well he knew your body and how perfectly he fit inside you.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as your back arched, your head falling back. The sensation of him inside you was electrifying, the friction and depth making it impossible to hold back. You clenched around him, the tightness pushing him closer to his own release.

Dean responded with a low, guttural groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he felt you tighten around him. His own pleasure built rapidly, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The way you were moving, the way you were squeezing him, was almost too much to handle.

The pressure within you reached a peak, and with a final, intense clench, you felt the waves of your climax crashing over you. Your body trembled, your moans a mix of ecstasy and relief as you finally let go, the pleasure overwhelming.

The sensation of your climax triggered Dean’s release as well. He let out a throaty groan, his body tensing as he came, the force of it pushing him into a shuddering, intense orgasm.

But as Dean’s body tensed with the force of his release, he let out a strained gasp, a sharp pain flaring in his injured rib. The sudden jolt of discomfort cut through the haze of pleasure, causing him to stiffen and wince.

“Shit”, he muttered, his voice tight with both pleasure and pain. He tried to mask it, but the strain was evident in the way he clenched his jaw and the slight grimace that crossed his face.

You immediately noticed the shift, your pleasure quickly giving way to concern. You could feel his discomfort and moved carefully, your hands reaching up to cradle his face. “You´re okay?”, you asked, your voice soft with worry. “Does it hurt?”.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of lingering desire and discomfort. “Just a little”, he admitted, trying to brush off the pain. “Didn’t expect it to flare up like that, though”.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea”, you mumbled softly, your voice filled with concern as you carefully shifted off of him, moving slowly to avoid causing him any more discomfort. Dean let out a small, half-hearted chuckle, his hand brushing over his rib as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Yeah, probably should’ve taken it easy”, he admitted, his voice still rough but laced with a bit of humor. He gave you a reassuring look, but you could see the lingering tension in his eyes.

As you sat up, you quickly pulled your panties back into place, trying to prevent the inevitable mess of your combined release. You caught Dean watching you with a faint smirk, despite the pain, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“You’re still smirking even when you’re in pain?”, you teased lightly, reaching for a nearby throw blanket to cover him up. “You really are something else, Winchester”.

Dean shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion. “What can I say? You have that effect on me”.

While Dean carefully tugged himself back into his jeans, you slipped off to the bathroom, moving quickly to clean yourself up. As you splashed water on your face, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror, your thoughts racing. Despite his humor, the tension in Dean’s expression had been clear—his rib was still bothering him more than he was letting on.

By the time you returned, Dean was sprawled back on the couch, the blanket draped loosely over him. His eyes were half-lidded, the weariness from both the hunt and the earlier moment of intensity catching up to him. You stood in the doorway for a moment, biting your lip as you took him in.

"Maybe we should stay in", you suggested softly, stepping toward him. "Forget the party".

Dean looked up at you, his expression softening as he registered your words. He gave a slight shake of his head, attempting to brush it off, but you could see the exhaustion creeping up on him. "I’m fine", he muttered, trying to sit up a little straighter. "I can handle it".

You crossed the room and sat down next to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Dean, you’re not fooling anyone", you said softly, your tone filled with concern. "You need to rest. That rib isn’t going to heal if you keep pushing yourself".

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew you were right, but the stubbornness in him didn’t want to admit it. "I just didn’t want to ruin your plans", he admitted quietly, glancing up at you. "You were excited about the party".

You smiled gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "The party doesn’t matter", you whispered against his skin. "What matters is you. I’d rather spend the night here with you, making sure you’re okay".

Dean’s eyes softened at that, the fight leaving him as he finally relaxed against the couch. "You really don’t mind?", he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You shook your head, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Not at all", you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "Besides, staying in with you sounds a lot better than any party".

Dean smiled, the tension in his body easing as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "Alright", he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I guess we’re staying in, then".

You snuggled into his side, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing calming your own racing heart. The rain outside continued to fall in a soft, soothing patter, and in the quiet comfort of the moment, you both knew you had made the right choice.

Tonight would be just for the two of you, no parties, no distractions—just the peace of being together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573

[pitchsidestories]

taste II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1018

a/n: dear readers, this short, a little silly but cute oneshot was inspired by this request here, happy reading. 🫶🏻 🐈‍⬛

Autumn has finally arrived in Barcelona. Leaves painted in red, orange and yellow started to fall from the trees for one last dance. Baghera was entranced by what nature did and watched everything from her favourite spot in the living room close to the window.

Every year you both were falling in love with that season of the year, as it might be an ending to a summer you fully lived, but also the beginning of something fresh and new.

The champion’s league was about to start and games under the lights were always something special, alone the thought of it filled you with giddy excitement.

“Girls, I invited Esmee for dinner. That’s alright, right?”, you asked your girlfriends who were already in the kitchen.

“Yes, of course, kjaerste.”, Ingrid nodded friendly, standing in front of the stove. While Mapi was launching around in one of the chairs in a sitting position which screamed gay, and parents would judge because of bad posture.

“She was so sad that her parents left again. I thought she could use the distraction.”, you continued. The sad face of the young player was still fresh in your memory.

As a foreign player yourself you knew that being separated from your family for such long periods of time was hard especially when the nights got colder and the daylight shorter.

When you first came to Barcelona at Esmee’s age you were glad that Mapi and Ingrid welcomed you into their home with open arms, the appartement you began to share with them turning into a home away from home soon.

“That’s very sweet of you.”, the Norwegian commented, her forehead covered in frowning lines, looking concentrated at the recipe ahead of her.

“What’s for dinner?”, Mapi questioned smirking.

“I’ve something delicious planned.”, Ingrid announced delighted.

The Spaniard and you took a curious glance at the cookbook before exclaiming, faces formed to disgusted grimaces. “Pumpkin soup?!”

“Why do I have two children, one who has no patience and the other has the taste bud of a toddler?”, the dark-haired women groaned in response.

“Excuse me?”, you replied, pretending to be offended.

“I said what I said.”, Ingrid declared who tried her best to suppress a smile.

“Can’t you make some chicken nuggies?”, you asked your girlfriend, giving her puppy-eyes which you hoped would warm her Scandinavian heart. Often this worked out perfectly fine.

“Please, please, please.”, Mapi supported your suggestion loudly.

“Girls, seriously?”, Ingrid sighed, the defender and you knew from her sigh alone that you both had won in the question of what’s going to be for dinner.

A knocking on the door interrupted the discussion. You opened the door for Esmee and led her into the kitchen.

“Hi everyone. Ingrid, what are you cooking? Can I help you?”, the young player asked politely, peeking over the shoulder of the tall Norwegian.

“I’m making pum-…“, she started, one last attempt to get someone on her side.

“We’re having chickie nuggies!”, Mapi and you announced simultaneously.

Finally, Ingrid gave in: “Yes, we’re having chicken nuggets…“

“Thanks, love.“, you thanked her, beaming.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nudged your side: “You’re lucky I love you two so much.“

“We love you too, amor.“, Mapi replied, kissing Ingrids right cheek while you got on your tiptoes to kiss her left.

Esmee cleared her throat, making sure you hadn’t forgotten that you had a visitor.

Blushing, Ingrid pushed the two of you away and got to work.

You grinned at Esmee: “Hope you like nuggets, Esmee.“

She nodded happily, looking a bit relieved that it wasn’t pumpkin soup: “I do.“

“Then sit down while Ingrid shows us her cooking skills.“, you joked.

Ingrid rolled her eyes next to you. Of the three of you, she was definitely the best cook so making chicken nuggets was beneath her actual cooking skills.

Still, she managed to present you with a batch of perfectly crispy nuggets, a homemade dipping sauce and a bowl of fresh salad. You were all athletes after all.

“This is…“; Esmee said between two mouthfuls of salad.

“Delicious as always.“, Mapi completed the sentence for her, gleefully biting into a nugget.

Ingrid smiled across the table, seemingly happy that you all enjoyed her food: “Thank you, girls.“

“You’re the best cook.“, you agreed with the others.

“I’ll try the pumpkin soup another time though.“, the Norwegian warned you jokingly.

“I promise we’ll try it then.“, you assured her. It was only fair that she would get her pumpkin soup.

“Appreciate it.“

The food was quickly gone, leaving the table cluttered with empty dishes.

Mapi leaned back in her chair with a yawn: “Now time for a nap.“

“Thanks for the dinner, girls.“, Esmee said after she made sure that Ingrid didn’t want any help washing dishes.

“No worries, you’re always welcome here.“, you assured the young player and pulled her into a quick hug before she left.

You smiled to yourself as you closed the door behind her, you loved providing a safe space for the young players, making sure they had everything they needed even if it was just dinner.

“Y/n, Ingrid, hurry up!”, you heard Mapi call from the living room.

Ingrid left the kitchen, rolling her eyes: “That kid has no patience.“

“You still love it.“, you laughed as the two of you entered the living room where Mapi laid sprawled out on the sofa.

“Come into my arms, my loves.“, she laughed, making space for both of you on each side.

You didn’t even think twice as you launched yourself onto the sofa: “Coming!”

“All here.“, Ingrid smiled as she took the other side of the sofa.

Mapi sighed with content, wrapping one arm around each of you: “That’s how I like it.“

“Sandwiched on the sofa? We know.“, you teased her.

Ingrid chuckled lightly, reaching over Mapi and intertwined her fingers with yours: “Me too. With my two favourite children.“

With her eyes already closed, Mapi mumbled something unintelligible, already snoozing.

You cuddled closer into her side.

There was nothing better to do on your free day.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓔ight

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. miguel returns from the boxing gym tensed and all bruised up. you grow concern and offer to fix him up. while cleaning him up, the tension between you two grows more intense to the point where things become inevitable.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, angst, little hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, tension, smut, making out, dry humping, unprotected sex, fem oral, creampie, praising, aftercare ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

the cool breeze flowing by. the autumn leaves beautifully vibrant, decorated over the trees. the atmosphere covered in gray, puffy clouds with no trace of the sun. a perfect day for a walk.

wrapped in a cozy baby pink sweater, the fuzzy interior like a blanket. comfy light gray leggings and a pair of uggs. a comfy yet cute outfit for the day.

your eyes wander around the little park as the cool breeze flows by. one hand holding the leash attached to luna as she wanders around the grass sniffing away and the other hand stuffed comfortably in the pocket of your sweater for warmth.

standing in the chilly air for a while makes you crave for some coffee. after luna had her fair share of wandering around, you start heading back to the complex building. the cool breeze hitting your face.

as you’re walking, you notice a familiar tall figure approaching from the opposite side. recognizable brown fluff of hair and bulging biceps. immediately, your lips curl up into a soft smile.

“hey.” you approach miguel with that same smile.

there is a scowl on his face until he notices you, expression immediately softens. “oh hey.”

those brown eyes briefly scan your outfit. how cozy you look, how cute you look.

“how was boxing?”

“it was alright…”

his tone doesn’t match his answer. sounds rather distant… closed off. not to mention the way his eyes drifted from yours for a moment.

your eyes focus on his expression before wandering around his figure. they widen in shock at the bruised knuckles decorated in dried up blood.

“oh shit, your knuckles!”

miguel discards them with a head shake, as if he doesn’t care. “it’s fine, they’ll heal soon.”

“but they’re covered in blood.” your brows furrowed, looking up at him with concern.

“it’s okay, preciosa. i promise, they don’t hurt.”

you stare up at him in disbelief.

“did you boxed without gloves?”

that was the only reason why his knuckles would be bruised up and bloody. now that makes you wonder why he wouldn’t wear them in the first place.

“preciosa.” miguel softly drags out. “estoy bien.”

he doesn’t want you to worry about him. his knuckles will heal eventually. sure, he did a number on them. but miguel doesn’t want to tell you why they’re bruised up or why he didn’t use his gloves.

“no, you’re not okay. miguel, you’re bleeding.” you gesture at his bloody knuckles. “i’m patching you up, let’s go.” you go to grab his wrist but he moves away.

“hermosa, please don’t.”

miguel doesn’t want to burden you with his troubles. you seem to be having a peaceful day and he doesn’t want to ruin that. but it seems he already has now that you’re worried about his fucked up knuckles. maybe he should’ve walked away sooner.

“miguel, please. i’m not letting you walk in that building with fucked up knuckles and knowing you’re in pain, and don’t say you’re not because you are.”

shit.

you’re being serious, he can definitely tell. seeing that worried look in your eyes makes his heart. you shouldn’t worry about his stupidity. he rather see that pretty smile and eyes filled with happiness.

but it also makes his heart warm to see you care for his well-being. miguel can’t remember the last time someone did, genuinely. his military buddies do but because of partnership. he doesn’t hang out with them often or are close with them like he is with you.

after what happened to… gabriel, his relationship with his mother declined drastically. it was ugly yet heartbreaking. constant yelling and tears. that slap she left on him scarred him, telling miguel that everything changed from that moment. she stopped giving an ounce of care for him and miguel accepted that. he never step foot back into that house again.

george, however, does care for miguel. they would talk once in a while, through phone or text but that’s it. may be small but there is some care.

his biological father, not worth mentioning.

you’re the first to show him genuine care, sympathy. miguel truly believes his knuckles are fine and will heal eventually like usual. but seeing your eyes filled with concern and that small pout on those pretty lips, miguel couldn’t resist you.

he didn’t want to worry you yet you were.

with a sigh, he gives in. “alright…”

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“this is gonna sting.”

after luring him back to your apartment, you and miguel find yourselves on your couch. a first aid kit beside you and two now empty coffee mugs on the coffee table. miguel sits beside you, entire weight sinking into the cushions. you find it amusing how big he looks on your couch due to his bulky figure.

you clean up his right hand first then his left, being gentle as possible to not hurt him. miguel stares in awe at your medical skills. how attentive and caring you are. but mainly fascinated by the size difference of your hands. how tiny and soft yours look compared his larger, calloused ones. staring in awe of your acrylics, how pretty they appear. but his eyes mainly remain on your face, deeply captivated.

he also doesn’t ignore that rapid beating of his heart due to the close proximity. your body so close to his, gently glazing one another, feeling the heat radiating from your body. it makes his mind hazy.

because of the close proximity, miguel has a good close up of you. he can finally drink in your features. the lavender scent of your shampoo invading his senses. the serval beauty marks decorated over your skin. the curve of your nose. those pretty lashes of yours. brows furrowed in concentration.

everything about you is just so… mesmerizing.

he always though you were beautiful. just seeing you up so close, miguel is enthralled.

you, on the other hand, are nervous as hell. you can feel his eyes the entire time, observing your every move. not in an uncomfortable way, it’s just that your very handsome neighbor is watching you as you clean up his wounds. feelings his breath on your skin. making your heart beat faster than ever.

“i don’t wanna… pry much but… why did you not use gloves?” you ask softly, a little hesitant.

miguel averts his gaze from you, concealing his embarrassment. “just… didn’t feel like it…” his big, broad shoulders shrug. “needed to use my real hands, at least once in a while.”

your brows furrow a bit more, internally debating if you should push the question further. but ultimately you don’t wish to bother him, it seems to be personal. instead, you answer with a soft hum and continue tending to his wounds.

“all done.” you announce softly, packing away the materials back into the first aid kit.

“gracias, preciosa.” miguel analyzes his bandaged knuckles, mesmerized by your skills. a tiny, soft smile on his lips as he continues staring in fascination.

your heart skips a beat. another pet name.

looking back at him, your eyes caught a tiny scar peeking out from his black wife beater, on his right shoulder. your brows furrowed at the sight.

“what happened here?” you point out the scar.

miguel’s brows furrowed then glances to where you pointed, now realizing what you’re referring to.

“oh it’s just an old scar, from a mission.” he shrugs.

your brows remain furrowed. he acts like it’s nothing but that scar looks huge, even if it’s healed. following the scar, your eyes fetch another one next to it.

how many scars does he have?

“take off your shirt.”

your command catches him off guard, making miguel turn to look at you with a confused look. those thick brows furrowed a little.

“it’s nothing to worry about, hermosa.”

“miguel, how many scars do you have?”

“a lot but they’re healed.”

your heart aches a little at his confession. “please…”

fuck, when you sound like that, so sweet and caring, how can miguel resist that?

he doesn’t want you to worry yet that sweet tone of yours and those pretty eyes, he can’t say no.

with a sigh, miguel slowly takes off his wife beater with one hand. your eyes widen drastically. his muscular back covered in numerous scars and even a little stretch marks near his hips.

the sight makes your heart crack.

scars lathered over his sun-kissed skin. ranges in various length and size. some overlapping each other. most healed but some still look fresh.

this poor, poor man.

each of these scars have their own story. it’s likely that majority of them are from missions. you can’t imagine the types of missions he goes through, life-threatening ones even. the thought creates an unsettling sensation in your chest.

this man has gone through so much.

subconsciously, you raise a hand up. the sudden temptation to reach out, lightly rake your fingers over his scars. to give him some comfort, care.

your fingers hover over them, merely a few centimeters away from his skin, not touching him. the temptation grows stronger but you’re afraid of overstepping his boundaries.

miguel can somewhat feel your fingers, or at least sense them. it makes his heart beat faster than before and breathing grow a bit heavy. the tension is too much, almost unbreathable. as if it’s wrapped around his neck. his hands begin to fidget, as sign of anxiousness. his body temperature skyrocketing.

ever so lightly, you place your fingers on his back and his body immediately tenses. it startled you, causing you to retrieve your hand away from his body.

“sorry, i—” you panic a little.

“don’t.” he says softly, reassuringly. “don’t be.”

your touch sent a jolt through his body. not unpleasantly but rather excitingly. just a light of your skin against his makes his heart jump.

looking at his scared back, you can’t help but feel remorse and guilt. using your fingertips, you trace above the scars without touching him. yet, all miguel wants is your touch. carves it, in fact.

it’s not surprising he’s touch starved. after gabriel’s death and the aftermath of his family dilemma, miguel has been on his own since. closed off anyone who was close to him. went straight into duty whenever he got called back.

there was no time for relationships. miguel believed there was no point. no matter how many women threw themselves at him or one of his military buddies trying to hook him up, he never gave in.

no woman captured his attention like you.

his beautiful, caring neighbor.

the woman who infiltrates his every thought.

ever since he first met you, you captured his attention. when he got to know you more and your bond blossomed into something more, miguel couldn’t stop thinking about you. no matter what he was doing or where he was, his thoughts were constantly about you. never has he felt this way about a woman before. not even that one girl he used to hang out with during his late teen years made his heart beat fast like you do.

you’re special, so alluring.

as your trace your fingers along his scars, right above them, that remorse feeling grows stronger. “i’m so sorry…” your tender voice rings in miguel’s ears like a sweet melody. a sound that makes his heart swoon.

he can hear the remorse in your sweet voice and his heart aches a little. he appreciates your kindness, it’s sweet like candy. miguel might end up with a cavity because he can’t take your sweetness any longer.

“it’s okay…” he whispers, matching your gentle tone.

slowly turning his head, miguel glances down at you, still looking at his back before your eyes meet his. suddenly, the tension is stronger than ever. you hold each other’s gaze that feels like forever. those mesmerizing brown irises boring into your gorgeous ones, as if staring into your soul. myths have told that the eyes are the windows to the soul.

sudden heat develops in both your bodies, heart rate skyrockets due to the close proximity. you catch his eyes glance down at your lips, making your heart skip a beat. miguel couldn’t stop himself, those lips have been taunting him since the beginning. as if they’re begging for his. flashbacks of the night after the coney island trip, how he had the biggest temptation to claim those glossy lips but couldn’t out of fear of rejection. but this time, he can’t resist. not when you’re looking at him with those gorgeous eyes. it’s getting more difficult to resist you.

you’re so pretty close up. you were always pretty but fucking hell - you look so damn angelic and desirable. the warm lighting of your lamp does wonders on your features. you look so soft, you must feel so soft. of course he’s touched you before. the times he drove you home on his back, your arms hugging him as he drove. your fingers brushing against one another when passing things to each other. but miguel never truly felt you before. damn does he have the biggest urge to caress your cheeks, arms. to feel your softness against his roughness.

not once did his eyes look away from your lips. the longer he stares, miguel finds himself slowly moving closer as if there is some magnetic force. your heartbeat increases rapidly as he continues leaning closer. you don’t move, too lost in trance and nervous to move away. yet - you don’t wanna move away. the more he leans, the more your lashes flutter.

your lashes flutter rapidly as his face is right in front of yours. noses gently brushing against one another. hot, anxious breaths fanning each other’s as if it’s the only air you’re breathing. him being right there makes your core starting to throb, heavily with want.

since you’re not rejecting his approach, miguel takes that as a green light and finally does what he’s been waiting for. ever so gently and slowly, he captures your lips with his. fireworks explode in both your bodies. soft, just like he dreamed. you, on the other hand, were dying to feel those plump lips and it’s everything you dreamed of.

miguel doesn’t push further, not wanting to overwhelm you or unsure if you wish to continue. but since you don’t move away and he desire to taste more of you consumes his entire soul, miguel kisses you again but a bit deeper this time. his heart flutters when you kiss him back with the same passion.

the moment you two have been waiting for.

the kiss slowly grows more passionate. your lips dance together, savoring the taste of each other. instinctively, your hands rise up and gently cup his face. his bulky arms slowly wrap around you. gently holding you closer to his body, pressed against his solid, warm chest. shivers go down your spine as his hands roam slowly over your body. groping your curves gently yet a little possessively.

miguel quietly groans as you let out a soft moan when his hands continue grouping you. the sweet sound making his core throb and twitch. hearing him groan triggers something in you, wanting to hear it again. you start applying more pressure into the kiss, catching miguel by surprise. he lets out another heavenly groan as your dig your fingers into his soft, brown locks. gently tugging on them. fuck, the sensation makes his mind hazy.

things grow more heated. a full blown makeout session on your couch. soft moans and groans lingering in the air. hands roam over each other’s bodies. a soft gasp leaves your lips as you feel miguel’s calloused hands slipping under your sweater and touching more of your celestial skin. he’s going fucking crazy at the feeling of your soft skin in his hands, wanting to feel more and more. as of his life depends on you. as if you’re his life source.

while eating each other’s faces off, miguel leans forward causing you to lay back on the couch. he manages to settle in between your legs, his muscular structure hovering your smaller form. much to your dismay, his lips leaves yours but eases your concerns as they find themselves on your neck. a soft moan escapes your lips at the sensation, mind becoming hazy. one hand rested in his hair and the other gripping onto his shoulder. the bulging muscles under your fingertips. his hands continue roaming your body as miguel leaves sweet kisses on your neck, intending on marking you.

“m-miguel…”

that soft moan of his name drives him insane. he wants to hear more, in that exact tone. it causes him to roll his hips into yours, slowly dry humping you. it elicits more of those sweet noises from you. both your cores throbbing with intense want and need.

“i’ve—” one kiss. “been waiting—” another kiss. “for this—” a third. “for you—” a kiss then a suck.

you moan at his words and the sensation, back arched a little. “m-miguel, please…”

fuck, your pleading drives him crazy. making his cock twitch terribly in his gray sweats.

he doesn’t want to take you on the couch. you deserve to be worshiped properly, in bed surrounded by comfort. miguel swiftly picks you up, earning a gasp from you, and carries you in his arms as he hurriedly walks over to your bedroom. you quickly warp your arms around his shoulders, smiling at his eagerness. body overflowing with excitement.

once he makes it to your room, miguel carefully sets you down the bed. the plush mattress against your back. your lips never detach. more moans escape your lips as his returns to your neck, leaving more butterfly kisses. his hands roam over your body until he reaches the hem of your sweater and stops. lifting his head up, he glances down at you.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, giving a light tug at the hem of your sweater as emphasis.

you eagerly nod and miguel doesn’t hesitate. he slowly pulls up your sweater, revealing peeks of your celestial skin to his hungry eyes. as he carefully pulls it over your head and off your body, miguel inhales a sharp breath at the sight of expose torso. eyes dilating at the sight of your covered breasts, adorn in white lace of your cute bra. the cups of it hugging your breasts graciously, making him salivate.

tossing the discarded sweater somewhere in the room, miguel slowly reaches up with a hand and gingerly cups one breast, eliciting a soft gasp from you. your back immediately arches into his touch, sending jolts through your body. he observes your every move, how your body reacts to his touch. his hand is so fucking big, it covers your entire chest. he gives it a few squeezes, earning more of your sweet nosies, before leaning down into your cleavage and begins making out with your covered breasts. cupping them with both hands and kneading them.

your hands instinctively land in his hair, digging in those soft brown curls as soft moans spill from your lips at the incredible sensation miguel is giving you. panties growing damped, flooding inside.

“oh miguel~” you softly moan as his tongue slides over the roundness of your exposed breast.

he lets out a hum as he continues his attack on your delicate breasts. his kisses move down your body. licking and kissing your belly. a pitchier moan falls from your lips as miguel’s tongue slowly slides up your belly from your lower abdomen up to your diaphragm. your reaction makes him smile.

he reaches the hem of your light gray leggings and immediately glances up at you. “puedo?” he was a bit hesitant, hoping to not push your boundaries but your nod eased his worries.

gripping the sides of your leggings, miguel slowly drags them off your body. biting his lip as your matching panties are revealed to his lustful eyes. quietly groaning at the sight of the wet stain on your panties. a sign of your desire for him.

you feel a little embarrassed because you’ve never been this wet before. but the lustful glint in his eyes makes you feel a little better.

“is this okay—”

“miguel, please~” you whine, eagerly wiggling your hips as a desperate sign.

you’re getting inpatient and miguel can’t help but softly chuckle. how cute you are, so inpatient for him. desperate for him to ravish you, and he certainly will.

“relájate, bebé. i promise to take care of you.” he grips the edge of your panties and slowly slides them down your legs. “joder…” he curses at the sight of the fucking fountain between your thighs.

the sight of your glistening cunt is forever imbedded in his fucking mind. all of that because of him. his cock twitches harder, obviously poking through his sweats that are more tighter and uncomfortable.

getting on his knees, miguel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer towards him, making you squeal. his eyes remain on your glistening pussy, licking his lips in anticipation for the greatest meal that awaits him.

“gonna make you feel good, bebita.”

you shudder at that.

after putting your legs over his shoulders, miguel immediately dives into your pussy and attacks your clit. you yelp in surprise and throw your head back on the sheets. instinctively placing a hand in his hair. miguel continuously sucks and licks your precious pearl to earn more of your sweet reactions, overfill you with intense pleasure. he switches from sucking your clit to fucking your pussy with his tongue.

“miguel!” you moan, arching your back.

“dios, you—” one lick. “taste—” one big suck. “fucking—” another suck. “amazing.”

he couldn’t get enough of your sweet pussy. addicted to your sweet nectar. devouring you like a starve man as if you’re his final meal. if you let him, miguel would eat you out for eternity.

he is definitely pussydrunk.

the pleasure was getting too intense. the alternation of his lips sucking on your precious little clit then his thick tongue penetrating you. that familiar warm sensation in your tummy starts bubbling up.

“miguel—”

“lo sé, bebtia. lo sé.” he said in between slurps and licks. “dámelo.” a soft command.

his movement were getting faster, determined to make you come. it seems to be working due to your moans getting louder and pitchier. your back breaking into waves. fingers griping onto his hair, almost too painful but miguel doesn’t care. he’s too busy on making you see stars, or the whole universe.

in a matter of seconds, fireworks exploded. you come with a loud whine of his name. gushing all over his face with your sweetness. miguel drinks up all your sweetness as if he found an oasis, not letting one drop go to waste. he needs every ounce of you.

once he has his full, miguel finally gives your poor pussy a break and lifts up his head. half of his face glistening with your sweet nectar. a few strings of saliva attached to your pussy from his mouth.

“you taste amazing, bebita.” that earns him a soft whine which makes him smile.

standing up at the edge of the bed, miguel licks off the remains of your come around his mouth while his hands begin undoing his sweatpants. you remain laying on the bed, heavily fucked out by the amazing orgasm this man gave you. you feel the mattress dip and open your eyes to see this hunk of a man above you. his muscular frame hovering over you, making you feel so small in comparison to him. thick, muscular arms caging you in. yours eyes wonder around his body. the scrumptious body chair that makes you wanna run your fingers in. those toned abs decorated with that delicious happy trail that leads down to the thing you’ve been anticipating for.

holy fuck, he’s fucking huge.

at least eight inches. his girthy cock erected and throbbing for you. there is no way that will fit inside yet your throbbing pussy says otherwise.

he sensed your apprehension, his expression softens. “i’ll go gentle, bebé, lo prometo. if you need me to stop, dime. don’t be afraid to, vale?” miguel brings up a hand and caresses your cheek with such tenderness as a way to ease your worries.

his words bring you comfort, making you nod. that soft smile he gives you makes your heart flutter.

“lift up your hips for me.”

you obliged, lifting them when he slides a pillow underneath for support.

just as he grips his erected cock in one hand and aligns himself with your entrance, miguel quickly realizes you aren’t using protection.

“wait.” he quickly looks up at you, a little concern. “do you want me to get a—”

“i’m on the pill.” you quickly reassure him.

a sense of relief washes over him. miguel gives a small nod then proceeds to line himself with your dripping cunt. a shared moan mingles in the air as he slowly slides through your tight, warm walls.

“chinga…” miguel groans at the tightness of your walls, clenching onto him. “you’re fucking tight, bebtia. gotta breathe for me, okay?”

you could only answer in a small mewl, trying to follow his advice but he’s so damn big. you swear this man is gonna rip you in half.

miguel senses your discomfort, making his heart ache. “i’m gonna pull out.”

“don’t, please!” you grip onto his shoulder to prevent him from doing so, tugging him closer which makes miguel’s heart skip a beat. “i- i just need a second.”

“of course, bebita.” he coos, caressing your cheek.

once you’re comfortable enough and give him the green light, miguel continues sliding through at a slow pace until he finally bottoms out. you softly gasp as you feel so utterly full of him.

“tell me when, preciosa.”

“now, please~”

he softly chuckled at your eagerness. very slowly, he drags out his cock for a second before plunging it back inside you. a slow deep thrust, making you moan and arch your back.

his thrusts start off slow but deep, making sweet love to you. the bulbous tip of his cock kissing your sweet spot over and over, making you go crazy. he feels so good, so deep and thick. your tight walls squeezing the life out of his cock.

“fuck, bebé— you’re so— tight.” miguel groans in between phrases as you clench around him.

one of his hands reach towards your face and cups your cheek as he leans down and capture your lips in a passionate kiss. you reciprocate, your moans and whimpers muffled by his lips as his cock continues pumping in and out of your slick cunt. miguel sallowing those pretty sounds of yours.

“preciosa.” he coos, parting from your lips to gaze down at you with utter adoration. “mírame.”

opening your eyes, you look up at your handsome lover with fluttering lashes, softly whimpering. the corner of his plump lips curl up into a smile.

“mi niña preciosa.” miguel coos, earning a soft whimper from you. “making you feel good, hm?”

“y-yes.” you moan as he does a deep thrust.

he was making you feel good, so fucking good.

one of your hands falls flat on the bed. miguel delicately takes it with his larger, calloused hand and interlocks fingers. making the connection more intimate as you continue making love.

miguel eventually picks up his pace, his hips repeatedly snapping into yours. moans and groans mingle in the steamy air of delicious sex. obscure noises echoing around the four walls of your bedroom. the gentle pit-pat against the window due to the rain occurring in the outside world. it feels like you and miguel are in your own world. two souls connected as your bodies move in harmony. nothing else matters, only each other in this moment.

your lips connect, sallowing each other’s noises of pleasure as your love-making progresses intensely. his grip on your hip tightens as you clench around his cock for the millionth time.

“fuck, hermosa—” a groan escapes him, brows furrowed in pleasure. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep clenching me like that.”

your mind goes fucking haywire at the thought of miguel cumming inside you.

miguel is so lost in your sweet, little cunt. sucking him in and squeezing the life out of him. your nails digging into his muscular back. hissing a little at the sensation but oh so loves it so much.

“d-don’t stop.” you whimper, gripping onto his back as if your life depended on it.

“not gonna stop, preciosa. too fucking good to stop.”

the burning sensation in your core increases rapidly. an endless chorus of ecstasy falling from your mouth, moaning and panting as miguel’s cock plunges in and out of your tight cunt.

“miguel!~” you moan and arch your back as he hits that sweet spot with a deep thrust.

“i know, bebé. i know, i fuck—” a groan falls from his lips as he feels you clench around him so fucking tightly. sensing his forthcoming orgasm.

reaching down with a hand, he flicks your clit to give you more pleasure. each flick in unison of his thrusts. the sudden sensation makes you squeal loudly, digging your nails further into his back which causes miguel to groan. you both are about to burst.

“cum, mi amor. let go.” he purrs.

a couple more flicks and thrusts, you do with a loud moan of his name. singing so beautifully, his mind going haywire at the sight of you reaching the pinnacle of pleasure. so goddamn beautiful. gushing all over his cock with your sweetness.

miguel soon follows as his hips stutter before spilling himself inside of you with a moan. pumping you full of his cum, painting your walls white. you softly moan at the sensation, feeling so utterly filled.

you share one final passionate kiss before miguel carefully collapses on top of you. making sure not to put his full weight on you. arms wrapped around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, gently combing the soft curls through your fingers. miguel lets out a low hum at the calming sensation, burying his face in the pillow right beside your head as you both recover. your synchronized breathing echoing in the room.

after a few minutes of recovery, miguel lifts himself up by the elbows and looks down at you. “you okay?” he caresses your cheek with a hand so lovingly.

“yeah…” you answer, still a bit breathless.

“do you need anything?”

“water would be nice.” you weakly smile.

miguel mirrors your smile then plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before carefully pulling out. eliciting a soft whine from you. getting off the bed, miguel slips back into his boxers and quickly heads over to the bathroom to retrieve a wash cloth. returning with one in his hand, he kneels at the edge and carefully cleans in between your thighs. being so gentle as possible to not overwhelm you. giving your thighs gentle rubs as comfort as he cleans you up.

after discarding the now dirty wash cloth and put on fresh panties for you, miguel returns from the kitchen with your requested water bottle.

you start to sit up but miguel swiftly steps in and helps you, placing a hand on your back for support as he guides you. he brings up the water bottle that’s already opened to your lips and you take big sips. hugging the bed sheets up to your chest.

“thank you.” you softly smile at him as you finish.

“siempre.” he takes it back and places the plastic bottle on the nightstand then plants another kiss on your forehead. crouching beside you with his hand rubbing the small of your back in small circles. “estas hermosa…” he whispers, admiring your afterglow.

your cheeks warm up at his sweet compliment, leaning your face against his shoulder to conceal your bashful expression. “estas loco…”

“si, para ti.”

both of you chuckle, you rolling your eyes.

“alright, acuéstate, preciosa. you need rest.”

“and you don’t?” you arch a brow playfully.

“oh no i do, gonna knock out.”

you laugh more as he guides you to lay back down on the bed before he makes his way over to the other side of the bed and joins you. his arms scoop you up and you snuggle against his chest. letting out a soft sigh as you feel his body warmth. so smoothing and comforting, his heartbeat against your ear. causing you to start drifting away into sleep.

“rest well, bebita.” miguel whispers before slumber calls to his name as well. arms wrapped around you protectively as you both succumb to slumber.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[rheya28]

Ridgeview Apartment [ Apartment + Gym + Bar] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

An open/closed concept floor plan. Kitchen with all new appliances Bathroom with shower and bath Gym & Bar Panoramic view of the city

➽ Apartment Units:

1st Floor: lobby, Bar and Gym 2nd Floor [Unit 1: 3 Bed, 2 Bath] [Unit 2: 1 Bed, 1 Bath] 3rd Floor [Unit 3: 3 Bed, 2 Bath] [Unit 4: 1 Bed, 1 Bath] 4th Floor [Unit 5: 4 Bed, 3 Bath]

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽Lot Details

Lot Name: Ridgeview Apartment Lot type: Apartment Complex w/ gym and bar Lot size: 40x30 Location: Windenburg

➽ MODS

Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi

➽ CC LIST:

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, and tuds. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading !

Additional notes: You do not need to download all of the cc on the list as I only used 1 or 2 items from some of these set. Some items can be easily be replaced by what you already have!

I would however, download all heyharrie, pierisim, and felixandre sets that are listed as I used alot of their cc in the exterior and interior!

S-imagination : Nota Living Room [ Ceiling light Only]

Around the Sim: Shop sign [Barber sign only]

The Clutter Cat: Busy bee Pt 1 [ Green table Plant only], Dandy Diary [ Concrete coffee table only]

House of Harlix : Bafroom, Baysic, Harluxe, Livin Rum, Orjanic, Kichen

Bbygyal123: Balance Collection [ Yoga mat ]

Felix Andre: Berlin Pt 3 [ Office chair only], Chateau, FLorence, Colonial Pt 3, Grove Pt 4, Kyoto Pt 2, London Interior, Paris Pt 1 2 3, Grove

Charlypancakes: Maple &S Construction Pt 3, Soak

Harrie: Brutalist, Coastal, Klean

Joyce : Forever Autumn [ Curtains only]

Peacemaker: Graciously Georgian, Paige Armchair, Hamptons Hideaway [Ceiling light only]

Pierisim: Coldbrew, Combles, David Apartment, Domaine Du Close, MCM, Oak House, Winter Garden, Woodland Ranch

Charlypancakes x Pierisim: Precious Promises [ Chair only ]

*Ravasheen: Uplifting Elevator [MOD]

Simkoos: Everyday Clutter Add-on

Simplistic: Rustic Rug Trio

Sixam: Hotel Bedroom [ Desk only], Small spaces Laundry room

Syboulette: Fitness

Tuds: Cross

*Zulf: Let's get fit [MOD] -optional-

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[littlexdeaths]

i think they deserve some good ole’ love making, don’t you?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), eddie is a pussy drunk lover boy, riding, unprotected piv sex, cream pie and just some over all cuteness… they deserve it <3

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: big thank you again to the loml @strangerstilinski , also i totally picture time of the season by the zombies playing on the radio during this chapter… enjoy freaks xx.

the sweltering august nights had finally faded into a more tolerable autumn, the leaves beginning to bloom in a array of yellows and reds.

after your disaster of a date at the hawk a few weeks prior, you both agreed to meet exclusively at eddie’s trailer from now on. as it was the one place that was safe from the prying eyes of your brother.

so far anyway.

the cool september breeze that filters through his cracked window offers you some reprieve from the rising temperatures in his bedroom.

his hands are everywhere, gentle and warm as they kept your hips pressed into his mattress. the radio is playing softly in the background, an oldies station that neither of you cared to change.

as the both of you far too preoccupied with the weight of his ribs between your hips.

his tongue continues to lap against your overly sensitive core, already having coaxed two orgasms from you in the last half hour alone. your fingers are buried in his hair, curls mussed from your constant tugging and damp from sweat.

your soft whine of his name has his head lifting, flushed cheek pressing into the meat of your thigh. his pupils are blown out and glassy, your juices that are smeared across his chin shine in the muted light of his bedside lamp. the colorful handkerchief draped over it casts him in a soft pink glow.

and he’s never looked so beautiful to you before.

“c’mere,” you plead.

he’s crawling up your body without another word, lips locking with yours. he kisses you deeply, hips rutting against yours with fervent need. the feeling has you gasping into his mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

another pointed roll of his hips has your fingers sliding down his bare chest and lightly pushing against it. eddie pulls back slightly, the worry that fills his features quickly dissolves when he takes in your lustful expression.

“lay back for me, handsome.” your words come out soft, but more desperate than you intended.

and eddie, eager to please as always, just flops down on the mattress beside you. he just gazes up at you, doe-eyes filled with devotion as you place your palm on his chest and move to straddle his waist.

you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, chest rising and falling as you seat yourself on top of him.

you’re both treading in uncharted waters, but the encouraging look in his eyes helps to keep you afloat.

an experimental drag of your hips has him groaning, rough fingers splaying over the tops of your thighs. you can feel him— hard, heavy and straining beneath the fabric of his boxers. the thin layer is the only thing separating your bodies now.

the mixture of your slick and his saliva soaks into the checkered fabric, allowing you to glide your hips more easily against his shaft. the damp material catches against your clit in just the right way, pulling a whiny moan from your throat.

“that’s it,” he mumbles, helping to guide your hips. “take what you need, baby.”

your hands that are resting on his chest suddenly dip lower, the male helping to lift your hips so you can tug his boxers down his thighs. when eddie moves to kick them off the rest of the way, the sudden motion has you tumbling forward and accidentally knocking your heads together.

“whoops,” you breathe as you lean back, cradling your forehead in the palm of your hand. “sorry… you okay?”

your lips jut out in a small pout, suddenly worried that you ruined the moment due to your inherent clumsiness.

he glances up at you before licking his lips, “it’s hard to say…” his brows then quirk up beneath his bangs, a breath blowing past his spit-slick lips.

“but y’know, now that you mention it…”

he draws it out, an over dramatic lilt beginning to bleed into his voice.

“i am starting to feel a bit woozy.” he pauses, before the corner of his mouth turns up in a cheeky grin. “not from a concussion, of course, but having a pretty thing like you on my lap is—”

and quickly shut him up with a kiss, feeling the laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“you’re such a shit head,” you giggle, nipping at his lower lip.

“oh yeah, keep talking to me like that, sweet thing.” he teases, “you know how that gets me going.”

feeling suddenly emboldened you reach between your bodies, grasping his hardened length in your palm. his answering groan only encourages you to grip it fully as you sit back up.

you nudge the reddened tip through your drenched folds, mewling softly when you slowly start to sink down onto his thick length.

“that’s it, slide it in— oh fuuuuck,” he all but whines.

you’re panting by the time you’re fully seated, palms resting on the flat of his stomach. his cock is nestled at your deepest point and you swear you’ve never felt so full in your entire life.

eddie regards you with the utmost tenderness as you raise your hips, nearly letting him slip out of you before you’re guiding them back down with a small gasp. your pace is slow but steady, gradually taking him even deeper with each subtle rock of your hips.

your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot. his hands that were resting on your hips begin to trail up your sides, underneath your shirt to kneed your breasts in his warm palms.

“look at you,” he groans, encapturing you in the warmth of his gaze. “… like a goddamn dream, baby.”

you’re far too engulfed in your own pleasure to register anything he’s saying. besides the lewd whimpers that continue to spill past his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. the sensation soon becomes overwhelming in the most intimate way possible.

“god, i love you…”

those three little words slips past his lips before he can stop them. so drunk off the feeling of you wrapped around him that he doesn’t realize he’d actually uttered them aloud.

despite the lustful haze that continues to dull your senses, you suddenly hear him loud and clear.

when your hips gradually increase their pace, your fingers wrap around the chain that has fallen into the hollow of his throat. you grip the guitar pick in your fist, coaxing him up until your clothed chest is pressed against his own and his forehead touches yours.

“say it again,” you plead.

his eyes widen as the realization of what he’d just said finally sinks in. but there’s no trace of fear in them when he cups your cheek in his palm.

“i love you, sweetheart.”

your mouths meet in a sudden clash of tongue and teeth, and he swallows each breathy cry that leaves your swollen lips as you meet your end. he allows you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting as he chases his own release.

his thighs tremble and he fists the back of your shirt— keeping you pressed against him as he fills you to the brim. only then does he let the exhaustion take over, both of you falling back into the mattress in a heap of entangled limbs.

you both lay like that for a while, letting your breathing slow as the radio continues to fill the comfortable silence.

when you dare a quick glance up at him, your heart thumps even louder in your chest. his eyes are shut, his wild curls fanning out over the pillowcase. he looks so content you would’ve thought he was sleeping, but the subtle quirk of his lips tells you he’s wide awake.

eddie carefully peeks one eye open and you quickly hide your face back into his shoulder. a deep chuckle rumbles in his throat when he catches you staring, but it still makes his heart flutter beneath his ribs.

when you finally muster the courage to speak, your words are muffled, lips pressed into the sweaty skin of his clavicle.

“i love you too.”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove

let me know if you want to join the taglist for this series!