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charliemwrites · 3 months ago

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Greater Bad - Part 5!

This is the final chapter of this series. I had so much fun working on it, making myself write a character that was genuinely just really mean most of the time and not chickening out by softening him (mostly).

Again, a gigantic, smooch-filled thank you to ceilidho for letting me write this based off her drabble/concept.

(The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con Elements, Unreliable Narrator, Semi-Safe/Not-Sane/Dub-Con Intimacy

You still smell the same.

Clean water, soap and skin. It saturates the back of his tongue when he inhales deep. The sharp, cloying scent of printer ink has been replaced by the buttery aroma of bread and sugar. It’s better. His mouth waters, canines too big and sharp in his mouth, jawing aching to bite down until he’s teething on bone. Scrape his imprint into marrow.

Some shrink mentioned it in those first sessions, before Laswell and Price realized their precious Johnny wasn’t lost in the hole in his temple.

The human olfactory sense is strongly associated with our memory. What smells like home to you, Soap?

The jagged puzzle of his mind didn’t have a piece for home. But it had one for his – you – and that’s just as good.

The humidity in the shower leaves him drowning in the scent of you, lungs heaving. If they’d waterboarded him with your perfume, he wouldn’t have struggled at all.

“Easy, easy,” your voice derails him.

Velvet and smooth, purring in the bottom of your throat. It bounces off the walls and cracks across his skull, a concussive force, disorients him. He grips tighter to keep his balance, swaying into you. You’re all slick and soft, caught between his body and the wall, nothing but naked skin and those big eyes that drive him more mad.

His face is still buried in the vulnerable curve of your neck; you taste just as good as you smell. You jump when he nips, a high noise caught on your clumsy tongue. He growls, wants to hear it. Wants to be overwhelmed by you until all his senses are blown out.

“I’m not saying no,” you soothe, hands skittering down his biceps.

Of course you’re not, not his girl. It’s not a matter of yes or no, not for the two of you. The moon doesn’t agree to orbit the Earth, the sun doesn’t choose to shine. You’re the gravity keeping his feet on the ground.

“Slow down a bit,” you murmur, “We’re not in a rush, are we?”

Just hearing you say “we” sends his heart thundering double-time and euphoria flooding his poisoned veins. “We” - you and him. You squeak as he thrusts hard against your lower stomach, where you’re pillowy and perfect from a life of plenty.

He doesn’t even process what you’ve said for a few moments, too busy nibbling “we” into your shoulder. Only when you thread shaky fingers into his hair – too excited to keep them steady, sweet thing – does his head surface over the swelling waves of desire to hear you properly.

“Missed you,” he explains, raking fingers over your thigh in hopes it’ll bruise. Your mouth parts on a gasp, inviting him in. He ravages your mouth, teeth snagging your plush lips. Needs to leave his mark everywhere for always. Don’t you get that? How could you ask him to slow down when your skin is still pristine, your cunt all tight and unspoiled – a fucking tragedy that.

“Ye missed me too, aye?” he asks. Of course you did, of course. Made this pretty little cottage for the two of you, filled it with so many things that he could never forget where he is again.

“I ken ye did.” He does you the favor of answering, since you’re too busy with his fingers in your mouth. You’ve gotten better with your priorities since that first reunion, laving your tongue over and between his digits rather than waste it on idle chatter. “Can go slow once I show yer mine. Been too fuckin’ long they kept us apart, little bird.”

Your fingers curl around his wrist. Must be satisfied with how wet they are, then. He presses down on your tongue one last time before pulling away.

“B-but you took care of them… we don’t need to—ah!”

He smirks as your entire body jolts. You’re already starting to warm up, but your saliva makes the slide between your delicate folds even easier. You’re just as silky as last time, clit shy at the top of your slit. He coos in your ear, gets you flushing and hot from filthy promises.

“Ye wan’ this just as much as I do,” he growls. Poor thing, he knows you like your little games and he’s being impatient. But it’s been too long and you’re playing with fire. “I ken ye do. Tell me ye do.”

You stutter in shock – if he still felt guilt, he’d feel bad for doubting you – and stumble over your words. He stills his hand to help you, bracing his arm over your head. The stretch of his body seems to distract you, mouth parted but frustratingly quiet as your round eyes roam scars and muscle.

He clicks his tongue and pinches your clit to catch your attention. You yelp, little nails sinking into his chest. He rumbles. It feels good, but he’s on a mission.

“Tell me,” he repeats when you blink up at him. “Tell me.”

“I-I just want to be able to go again,” you babble. “If I’m too sore…”

He chuckles. Is that all? “That won’ stop me, love. We’ll go plenty.”

You whine as he draws tight circles over your clit, coaxing it hard and swollen.

“I d-don’ wanna be t-too… sore! Christ!”

He huffs, caught between amusement and exasperation. Voice of reason you are, he knows you’ve got a point. Big as he is, and he knows he’ll lose any sense of restraint once he’s inside.

“I’ll make it good, bonnie,” he promises, biting kisses along your trembling jaw. “You’ll cum crying if tha’s what it takes.”

With that matter settled, he drops his head to your pretty tits. Water has beaded all over them and he jealously licks paths between each drop, flattening his tongue over your hard nipples. You moan and squeal as he sucks and nips, teasing them sensitive and achy. One of your hands tangles in his hair and tugs. Tingles race down his spine, scattering any sweet thoughts of going slow or gentle or with restraint.

You’re babbling at him but nothing could be more important than the rosettes he’s biting into your breasts. And you must agree because you’re getting so wet, leaking all over his rough palm, bucking your hips. He tilts the heel of his hand for you to grind against while he prods at your slick little hole.

You really have been good, somehow even tighter than he remembers. Of course, you were; he never doubted you. No wonder you were so insistent on prepping. He’d split you in half as you are now – fuck but that’s tempting.

“S-Soap – John. Please don’t… stop.”

“I won’ stop, birdie,” he soothes. Nothing could make him stop now.

Two is probably too much for you, but he loves the punched out little noise you make when he forces them in. The way your entrance clings and squeezes around his knuckles. How your spine goes tight and stiff, tilting your head back so that he has access to your singing throat. Pretty face all scrunched up as you struggle to adjust, stinging too much to even squirm. A flighty little bird right in the palm of his hand.

You’re so hot and wet inside. Feel fucking heavenly. Coating him in arousal, in need. His cock is aching to replace his fingers, feel you strangling him down to the base. Grinding against your thigh isn’t tiding him over anymore.

“Yer hand,” he grits out, “on my cock. Now.”

You shudder and circle the head, fingers tentative. Little tease.

He thrusts his fingers into you hard in retaliation, hips driving into the loose tunnel you’ve made. You must know what you’re doing, goading him on like this, plucking at his fraying patience.

“More,” he snarls, “or I’m going to use you like a fleshlight.” (Sooner than he was planning, anyway.)

You whimper and close your hand tighter, rubbing your thumb just under the head. Relief makes him generous, scissoring those two fingers inside you, easing you open. Lets you grind your clit on the meat of his thumb.

He crooks his fingers and finds a spot that has you mewling all sweet and precious. Does it over and over just to get your hand squeezing rhythmically around his shaft, precum dribbling over the back of your knuckles.

Christ, it’s been so long that he thinks he could blow just from this. Your voice in his ear, drooling pussy wrapped around his fingers, grinding into the open circle of your hand. But he needs to be inside you when he cums, he has to.

You don’t even seem to notice the third finger until it’s halfway inside, prying you open. Your legs buckle, knees shaking. He catches you with an arm around your waist, but it squishes you against his chest, the arm you’ve been stroking him with nearly immobilized. He can only stand the lack of stimulation for a few moments, occupying himself with his tongue down your throat.

“Enough,” he rasps, kicking the shower off.

Dazed, you blink at him in confusion, half-lidded and guileless, panting. He wants to fucking ruin you.

You yelp as he scoops you up, fingers still slippery where they grip your thigh. He croons as you cling, asking in a high, nervous voice where he’s going.

“Poor thing, dick’s not even in yet ‘n yer all addled.”

The dripping head of his cock grinds against your sopping slit as he carries you back to the bedroom. He remembers how much you liked it before – and you still do, your blunt little teeth buried in your bottom lip as you whimper.

It’s still dark, the crescent moon no use to your weak eyes. Like hell you won’t look at him when he finally claims you proper.

He slaps at the wall switch, a tiny lamp flicking to life across the room. You’re bathed in soft golden light, deep shadows swimming where it doesn’t reach. You and him, gold and black, light and dark.

He eagerly lays you out on the blanket, drinking in the marks decorating your upper body. You even have teeth prints on your arm that he doesn’t remember putting there – fetching, though.

You wiggle further up the mattress, and he follows, flashing a grin as he plants his hands on either side of you. The size difference is stark like this, the breadth of him subsuming you. Safe, tucked away, all his. Your breathing is loud as he bullies his way between your plush thighs again. You have to spread them so wide just to accommodate.

“Lemme see,” he says, voice barely leaving his chest. “Lemme see her. It’s been so long, baby.”

He can already tell you’re about to start up the fussing again – so shy, his little bird, but he’ll get you singing nice and loud now. No more of this demure chirping facade. You both know what you really are.

You squeal as he forces your thighs up, far enough apart that you babble that you don’t bend that way. Of course you do, though, you’ve just done it. Not that he really hears you by that point.

No, all his attention is on that gleaming, puffy pussy. So fucking pretty. Sticky and throbbing, your hole hardly showing the stretch of three fingers. Dripping as he watches, a dewy glob of arousal sliding down the seam of your cunt, towards your ass.

Just the slightest shift and his cock is nestled between your folds, the glans chafing against your hot clit. He measures the depth of it against your abdomen, head cloudy on the nervous whine that eeks from your throat.

Even with prep, he might break you anyway.

He hopes he does. Break you around him, shape you to him so that no one else will fit – not that anyone else will ever get the chance.

It’s not a conscious thought that gathers saliva on his tongue, purses his lips. You jump when he spits, rubbing the head of his cock through your combined fluids. Your cunt looks good in white. Like a bride.

You’re too needy, wiggling with nervous anticipation. He has to hold you down while he sinks into you – poor thing too blissed out to control yourself. One hand around your wrists above your head, the other pinning your hips at an angle to drive in as easily as possible.

One snap of his hips, and he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out, shuddering and dry sobbing. His vision goes spotty with the pleasure of it, your little pussy squeezing. You’re so…

“Fucking perfect.”

He shushes you, unable to bend to kiss you without making the stretch worse. Settles for rubbing circles into your hip, twisting to lace your fingers together. Now that he’s finally, finally where he belongs, it doesn’t seem such a monumental task to muster some patience.

“B-big,” you whimper. “You’re t-too big. I d-don’t – I can’t…!”

“You already are,” he coos, “little girl taking this fat cock, I’m so proud. My girl is so brave, my little bird. Bonnie lass.”

He’s rambling now, a dirty stream of consciousness. But that primal urge to fuck you open and loose and stupid is already clawing at him again. The tight clutch of your cunt calls for him to break you in, mark you up on the inside. Claim you as his irrevocably.

You feel him drawing back, eyes flying open wide. Writhing, half-formed protests on your tongue - that you’re not ready, that he’s too big, that it still hurts.

As if that’s any reason to stop, when anything needs to sting a bit to leave a lasting mark.

“Only way to make it hurt less,” he reminds, burying inside again. This time he rolls his hips, grinding the head of his cock along your satiny walls, against the hard barrier of your cervix.

Whatever you’re about to say is swept off in a wave of moans, washing over your wet tongue and down the back of your too-empty throat. Every time you try to gather them, he fucks back into you, hard enough to bounce you up the bed before he tugs you right back down.

Eventually you give up on doing anything but keening for him, massaging his cock from root to tip in those twitching walls. You loop your legs around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back, knees squeezing against his ribs.

“Tha’s it, love,” he slurs, “jus’ take it.”

He lets your wrists go to clutch at both of your hips, angling them as he straightens his back. On the next thrust you scream, curse, throw your hands up to brace against the headboard. Smart girl.

His restraint unravels with each thrust until he’s pounding into you, slamming the bedframe into the wall. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull, jaw loose, spilling pathetic, weepy “ah, ah, ah” noises in time with his hips. He’s not going to last long at all. Not when you feel so goddamn good, finally claimed.

He presses his thumb against your clit and grins wickedly as you thrash. Tears leak from your unfocused eyes. You babble incoherently as he rubs a little rougher than he should, but your walls are sucking and clutching at every centimeter of him, so he doesn’t stop.

Even when you seize up, back bent into a sharp arch, clamping down so tight that he goes lightheaded.

“Soap! John… John it’s too much,” you sob. “John – Johnny!”

His orgasm blindsides him, makes him fuck you so hard that something in the bed cracks. In the haze, he flattens you to the mattress while bucking into you, not taking any chance of coming unseated. You whine in his ear but go limp, resigned to his cock spurting at the entrance to your womb – as deep as he can get – your cunt milking him for every drop.

He comes back to himself when you tap weakly at his hip, uncoordinated.

“Hm?” he asks, a little miffed that you’re disturbing his afterglow already.

“Hard to breathe,” you squeak.

He huffs. Alright, suppose he can understand that. Besides, he wants to see you.

And what a sight you make, splayed out and shaky on pleasure. Sweat at your hairline, lips swollen and bitten. He can still feel your pulse against his cock.

He sits himself up, eyes trailing down to the place where you’re joined. His cum is already seeping out a bit at a time, a thin creamy ring around his still half-hard cock. You keen a bit when it twitches.

“Pretty girl,” he coos.

You groan softly, flopping an arm over your glassy eyes as he pulls out – slow because he’s reluctant to leave.

But the sight of your slick diluting the milky white of his cum is too much to resist. You jolt at the first swipe of his tongue, react much faster than he’s expecting. Flip onto your front and try to scramble away. He growls at his stolen prize and pounces.

Under normal circumstances, you’re no match for him. Trembling and spent like this, you don’t stand a chance.

He grabs your calf and yanks you back, chuckling at the helpless stretch of your arms. You try to plead your case, but he’s hearing none of it. Plants his hand against your back as he shuffles onto his stomach, your thighs over his shoulders, knees digging into muscle. He tilts your hips with his other hand, thumb fitted in the crease of your pelvis, and brings you to his mouth.

Your struggling has made more spend leak out, and he laps it all up hungrily, tongue flat and ravenous. Sweeping from clit to hole to gather any stray droplets, even skimming over the tight furl of your ass. He licks into your loosened hole, high on pride at the difference he can feel his cock has made.

“’S too much,” you wail, “J-Johnny, please. I-I can’t, it’s…”

In retaliation, he slurps loudly at the fresh arousal blooming across his tongue. You hiccup, try one last time to wriggle away. He can’t have that.

You shriek as he fucks two fingers into you, voice thick with a fresh wave of tears. But you stop trying to escape. He doesn’t show mercy now that you’re behaving, coaxing more out, licking around his own knuckles. When he sucks at your overstimulated clit, you jerk and whine.

“I’m – I’m gonna… feels… w-wait, wait!”

It’s too late. He’s already laved his tongue over your trapped clit, crooked his fingers. You cum again with a shout, wetness splashing across his mouth, chin, down his neck. He groans, deep and rough in his chest. Doesn’t even give you a moment to recover before he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Do tha’ again on my cock.”

You’ve learned better now though – you lay there like a good girl as he stuffs you full again. Even better, you keep rewarding him with your soft cries of pleasure.

You really are made for him.

He likes the couch you picked. Not very big, but cushy. Besides, the two of you don’t need a lot of room anyway. Not when his lap makes a perfectly good seat for you.

You’ve been quiet all morning – probably still waking up from the coma he fucked you into. Eating babka from his fingers, licking them clean between bites. Docile and sweet, melting against his chest with your face tucked against his collarbone.

“Sore?” he asks.

“Mhmm.”

Your sweet little voice is all hoarse and soft. He’d coo if he didn’t think he’d be pushing his luck with skin so close to your teeth.

“Maybe I’ll massage you later,” he offers, smirking at the grumpy little “hmph” he gets in response.

He encourages you to sip a bit of water before your voice emerges again.

“What happens now?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question.

“Now I get the life I’m owed,” he answers. All that fighting, suffering, bleeding, dying – and for what? A hole in his skull and his own goddamn people thinking he’s a monster. Even you, at first. You’ve learned, though. He’s sure of it. The rest can swallow bullets for all he cares.

“What if they come back?” you ask.

He hums. “Might contract with someone. Not opposed to killin’ on principle – just sick of doin’ it to someone else’s tune, aye?”

“Wh-what… what about…”

What about you. Poor thing, afraid Laswell and her ilk will snatch you up and dangle you in front of him again. Or worse – some other sod drooling for a slice of heaven in the pits of hell.

He doesn’t loosen his grip even when you shift a bit – needs to feel you in his hands.

“Got a plan for that, don’ you fret, little bird,” he soothes. “Still got one friend, I think. Jus’ gotta find ‘im.”

You exhale slowly, accept another piece of babka. “We’re stayin’ here, though?” you mumble around the mouthful.

He chuckles. Sweet little thing.

“Worked so hard on the place, might as well. Don’ care so long as I’ve got my bird, aye?”

“Mm.”

“How ‘bout a kitty, eh? Get ya somethin’ to keep ye company when I’m away.”

You swallow audibly. “I wan’ a dog. Big one.”

He chuckles. “’Course ye do. Aye, love, a big fuck-off dog to keep ya safe.”

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #government asset!Soap #asset soap #heavy kink #mind the tags #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader

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lanabuckybarnes · 6 months ago

Note

BABYGIRL, Challenge for you:

Slutty little Drabble, kinky and the first character you think about.🤭🤭

| CottageCore | 18+ MINORS DNI

Everyone Knows to steer clear of the small cottage in the woods. Everyone except the Princess. Now she must deal with the consequences of her own actions — not that she’s complaining.

[More from Beast!Ari]

✧ Pairing ✧ Beast!Ari Levinson x Princess!Reader

✧ Warnings ✧ Size Kink, Dom!Ari, Rough PinV sex, Unprotected Sex, Dacryphilia, Breeding, Dirty talk, Squirting, Dumbification, Overstimulation, Belly bulge, Cum swelling, Knotting, A little Aftercare but definitely not enough for what you’ve been through - Any more lemme know!!

✧ Author Note ✧ Ohhh bbg thank you for the request, I’ve got a lil something for ya ~ ALSO my first time writing for someone that isn’t a Sebby character but @buckys-wintersoldier will tell you I have been OBSESSED with this man, I’ve written so many little drabbles about him and annoyed her with them 🤭🤭

✧ Word Count ✧ 799

Skirting about the palace halls unseen is virtually impossible when you’re 7ft tall. Yet Ari does it effortlessly. Each night since you invaded his cottage some time ago, professing your name and title he’s come for a piece of you. And every time he’s left you writhing underneath him.

You slipped on the silk sleep gown, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of it draping down over your bare ass before slipping under your heavy sheets. Your eyes tugged downwards with sleep when the soft nocking has them snapping open again.

You should’ve been more embarrassed at the feeling of your slick arousal coating the tiny gusset of your thin panties. Behind the door, in all his glory was The Beast. Or as you’d come to find he preferred, Ari.

You’d heard stories of Ari from when you were a wee one “Don’t go into the cottage in the woods” this and “there is a hideous creature who calls that place home, people who have gone seeking it have not returned” that. You didn’t think the man eyeing you like prized venison was ugly at all, he was huge; his thin shirt ripped and ragged, barely covering his corded muscles each time he moved a little, the coarse hair over his chest and arms making your mouth dry.

Then there was that thing between his legs. You didn’t think you could ever go back to another man after Ari had plunged himself into you the first time, almost splitting your hungry snatch in two. That definitely wasn’t ugly.

✧ ✧

“Ari! Ari Ari” you moaned like a madman, hips pushing back to meet every one of the beast’s delightfully hard thrusts, tears flowing down your cheeks. His huge hand clapped over your mouth, thumb running up and down the bridge of your nose soothingly.

“Gotta be quiet little queen, don’t want the king to hear you” he snarled, sharp canines nicking the stretched skin of your neck as he pulled your face back.

For someone so concerned about your father hearing you both he certainly didn’t care about the loud squeaking of your thick mahogany bed, the headboard thumping dents into the wall it rested on. No, it was his beastly nature to have full control over you, that meant subduing your noises when he saw it fit.

Every time his thick, heavy cock pulled out a stream of your juices squirted onto the steadily soaking sheets, your walls singing at the small reprieve before squealing again when he speared it back in. Your cervix was most definitely bruised, the pain was almost too much for you to bear each time his plush tip kissed it.

“Aughh little queen, nothing but a village whore for your beast’s cock. What would your kingdom say when I pumped that belly full of cum, giving you my cubs…mmm shit squeezing me, you want your belly swollen because of me?” He groaned animalistically, his free hand pressing down into your tummy. His pace slowed for a second, a whimpering sound falling from his lips before he pulled you up into his chest, his paw for a hand grabbing your clenched one and pressing it to where he just had.

When you felt it you came undone, his head poking against your belly each time he sunk in; it was too much, far too much to hold back.

“Mmm flower you’re milking me, you like the feeling of me in there? So deep in that little body…fuck…oh little Queen beg for my come, beg for it inside that little womb” Ari’s voice wavered, his thrusts increasing to an almost impossibly fast pace and leaving you almost completely dumb with overstimulation.

“Want you cum Ari…fuckfuckfuck! Please Ari need you to swell me up please please ahhhh” you screamed, uncaring of volume as you came again with Ari, your vision going white as he held your body still, strumming your little clit as he filled you.

His hand moved with yours, running it over your now swollen tummy. His knot sitting thick and heavy at your entrance stopping any of his thick cream from slipping out.

He lay you on your side, his heavy body plastered on your back, his lips kissing up your neck before licking at your ear.

“Good little queen, all swollen with beast’s essence, make adorable babies…keep you to myself and make sure my queen is happy for the rest of her life” Ari mumbled, his settling finally and his arms holding you tighter.

You weren’t sure how much of it Ari meant, was it just talk from his high or was he planning on giving you everything he proclaimed? You weren’t sure and you were too dumb to think right now, but the thought of living in his small cottage away from the limelight, having his babies. It made you safe.

✧ ✧

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs & Likes are always appreciated. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more

Thank you for reading~

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klausysworld · 5 months ago

Note

Here's an idea if you are taking any suggestion!

Niklaus has turned due to the full moon and his wolf wants to run about and the wolf comes into the house and has sex with Klaus' girl (with knotting and everything). Klaus transforms back in his human form, still knotted to her though, and cares for his girl who has fallen into her little space! With all the daddy-ness if possible! ❤️

Daddy’s Wolf

Klaus didn’t have to turn.

However his wolf was adamant he would turn on a full moon. Thankfully so did the rest of the wolves in New Orleans.

There was one little wolf in particular that Klaus’s wolf had taken a fancy to. She was an untriggered werewolf but that didn’t matter. She lived out in the bayou but in a sweet little cottage that Klaus had payed for on her behalf. He had wanted her closer to the quater but she wanted to stay in nature, her wolf needed the calmness of the forest and if that’s what she wanted that that’s what he’d give her. Besides it meant that she was out of the way and safe. But it also meant that he didn’t visit her as often as he would like.

That didn’t sit well with his wolf at all.

So when the full moon came, it made sure to push forward. Klaus eventually gave in and turned, decided there was no harm in releasing some tension for the night.

And with that he found himself racing through the woods, only the desire for her present in his mind.

Paws thudded against the leaves causing a soft rustle sound to drift amongst the breeze. His tongue hung from his mouth in a gentle pant as he made his way between trees. He was momentarily distracted as a deer caught his eyes and his train of thought was cut off. He hunted the animal down instead, leaping over bushes and skidding round logs. Klaus could feel the thrill of the chase, the fulfilment of his predatory instincts taking what they wanted.

However just as he caught up with his prey, his ears perked. His movements came to a stop and the deer sprinted off. He could hear muffled chatter in the distance and followed it until he found the familiar pathway. His tail wagged immediately and he trotted up to Y/n’s cottage. The TV was visible from her window and he smiled inside.

Eagerly he called for her, his claws scraped at her doorway and his body tried to push it open. Eventually she came and opened it up, she was dressed up in her little clothes making his tail wag harder.

“Daddy?” She mumbled quietly “is that you?” She asked, peeking through the gap. He yipped in response and forced his way inside. His back paw kicked the door shut and he tugged at her sleeve gently. Y/n followed his pull without resistance and went back to the sofa with him to watch her show. His wolf snuggled up with her, licking her cheek gently. Y/n nuzzled against his chest and smiled “Hi Klaus” she whispered, caressing his fur.

The wolf’s tail beat against the cushions as she played with his fur and looked up at him with those big sweet eyes. Y/n leant up and kissed his fluffy cheek softly with a giggle. He let out a playful growl and licked her face back.

Y/n’s nose scrunched up and she wiped his kiss away making the wolf huff and lick her again, spreading his scent across her skin.

Klaus briefly felt his mind go blank, the animal in him taking over as he began to lap at her skin. His eyes went nearly black as the wolf took over and dragged its canines down her throat. Y/n let out a gasp and tried to push his face away but he wouldn’t budge. It was only when his teeth pieced her skin and she let out a whimper that Klaus’s vision came back and he realised that he’d bitten her.

When she noticed his ears fall flat and a soft whine to leave him she told him it was okay.

Sometimes his wolf got a little possessive but he never meant any harm. She pet his head gently and kissed his front legs and chest lightly. Klaus let out a happy trill and stood up, circling her a few time before laying down around her little body.

Y/n laid against him for a while, her eyes closed and she just listened to the TV in the background. Klaus’s chest moved up and down gently as he breathed, his eyes stayed on her pretty face.

Klaus’s wolf couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and joy as his girl snuggled against him. Without realising it, his wolf would take over every now and then, just nuzzling her hair and tightening his hold before Klaus could realise that he’d lost control. The only issue with it was that Klaus had much more control over his desires and his wolf didn’t.

Which was why when Klaus came to, he realised how his wolf was grinding against his sweet Y/n. Klaus quickly forced himself to stop and clenched his jaw as his hips threatened to buck against his will.

Y/n was deep into her little space and enjoying her daddy's affection and touches, she loved his wolfy very much and always wanted to snuggle and play. A few times in the past his wolf would lick her sweet pussy and she would suckle on his cock but he had never fully fucked her in this form. He teased that one day he would and little Y/n would giggle and start to get needy and whiny until her daddy would ravish her with promises of a rough and wild night in the future.

So when she felt his wolf rubbing against her, she arched into the touch. A whine left her when he stopped moving and her head went back to look at him.

"Daddy" She mewled, her lips all pouty making his wolf puff his chest out. His fur stood on edge and his muzzle pressed to the crook of her neck, sniffing her skin before letting his tongue out to taste it.

Before he could help it, his paws where digging into her sides and his wolf was borderline humping his sweet girl. Y/n giggled and crawled out from under him making a suppressed growl rumble in his chest.

Y/n tutted and pushed him onto his back making his tail wag and his head cock to the side. She climbed on top of him, snuggling into his chest and twisting his fur between her fingers.

Klaus considered just turning back and ravishing her right their on the couch but his wolf wouldn't let him. Klaus felt his consciousness fading in and out as his wolf bucked his hips up and Y/n squealed.

"Bad Daddy" She whispered as she brought her hand down to stroke his overly obvious erection. She smiled and rest her head on his chest whilst watching his cock leak in her hand.

Klaus swallowed down a howl as she shimmied around so she could sink down on his cock.

"Mmm Daddy" She mumbled as she pushed her hips back slowly, letting her pussy stretch around his thickness and accommodate his length. "So big" She uttered, her lashes fluttering and eyes locking with his.

Klaus's jaw hung open in a pant as he watched her push down on his chest and roll her hips. She moaned sweetly at the feel of him filling her so perfectly. Her body slide over his at a gradual pace, her hands gripping his fur while her ass bounced against his pelvis.

A series of embarrassing whines left Klaus's wolf as he felt her speed up, her breathing getting heavier and her pussy clenching all the time.

"Mmm love Daddy's wolfy" She moaned, tugging on his hairs and bouncing as fast as she could before stopping completely.

It made Klaus groan and throw his head back. His cock ached and throbbed inside her. He could feel her pussy pulsing so he didn't understand why she stopped. But he wasn't in much of a position to complain.

Y/n snuggled back against him, panting softly against his neck and closing her eyes in an attempt to conserve her energy. Little Y/n got tired especially fast, despite her poor pussy desperate for her to keep bouncing.

"I'm sorry Daddy" She whispered and Klaus's ears went back again. He didn't want her to be sorry. He licked the side of her face lovingly and wrapped his arms around her body. His paws folded over each other to fix his hold on her so that his hips may thrust up into her effectively.

She lifted her head back so that she could kiss his neck and behind his ear as he did all the work. Sounds tumbled from his mouth as his wolf took over again and bucked up roughly. Each movement was hard and unforgiving as her entire body jolted up and her legs spread wide over his lap.

He growled when he felt his cock swelling even more than usual. His wolf knew what it needed to do but he had to get her properly.

Y/n cried out when his cock slid out of her and he got up, stepping over her and circling her sore body until she pulled herself to the arm of the couch so that he could get behind her. Her teeth sunk down against her bottom lip when he mounted her, his paws grabbing onto her hips and his body towering over hers. Her eyes closed and she imagined what he would say to her if he were able to before he sheathed himself inside her.

Her body was pushed forward and against the sofa as he got a steady grip on her and his hips started. His wolf was ecstatic about his positioning as he panted and growled out his appreciation for her soft, tight body.

"Daddy" She moaned softly and he felt his cock swell. Her whines were muffled as she bit down on her lip. Her hands clung to the fabric of the chair whilst her back arched to feel him hit that spot inside her just right. "Please" She whimpered and he groaned, deeply. "Please breed me Daddy" Y/n begged and Klaus's wolf went haywire.

Her pussy was pounded relentlessly and his knot began to form fully. The base of his cock swelled, his animalistic needs urging him to shove it inside her. He needed her, he needed to fill her with his seed, his babies.

Both their bodies shook with ecstasy when they felt him lock inside her. Her hands clung to the couch, mouth panting and sweat dripping. She whined when she tried to move but he wouldn't or couldn't pull out.

He licked over her shoulder gently, soothing her senses until she was lost to sleep. Klaus wasn't expecting his wolf to give in and turn back whilst still inside her but he was glad to be in his original form.

Gentle kisses were pressed to the back of her neck whilst her tried and failed to get his cock out of her. He hadn't thought that his knot would stay in human form but it had. It wasn't much of an issue as he moved them both upstairs and managed to turn her around so she was facing him whilst he gently wiped her clean with the babywipes in his drawer.

She whined when she woke to his touch and he gently tried to ease her back to sleep.

"Daddy" She whimpered and he kissed her temple softly.

"Yes little one, I'm here." He whispered and she nuzzled into his chest. "You were such a good girl" He praised while stroking her hair. "Daddy and his wolf are so proud of you, I'm gonna take such good care of you"

"Me and our babies?" She muttered with a yawn and he groaned softly.

"Yes babygirl. You and all our babies."

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holdmytesseract · 3 months ago

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moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

Wonders [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: Sometimes is all you need a wonder in a broken world...

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? lots of fluff, talks of pregnancy, slight angst, dad!Daryl

The Whisperer Era!

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: I had to write this. 🥹 Hope y'all like this! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Ted?" You called out for your son; voice echoing through the little cottage. "Outside, momma!" Your son answered loud enough for you to hear; feet carrying you straight towards him.

The nine-year-old sat on a small log just outside the cottage. He was highly concentrated on making his first own arrow. His tongue poked out of his mouth and touching his upper lip; eyes fixated on the task ahead. Dog laid beside him on the grass. The faithful canine rarely left the boy's side. Not since Daryl told Dog to always protect Teddy. He understood the assignment. Smart animal, without a doubt...

Daryl was not far. Only a few yards away; chopping wood, so that he could always have an eye on his son.

It had gotten noticeably colder. That was the reason why your husband spent more time with hunting and especially chopping wood. Fall was making itself known and preparing you for the winter, which was probably already lurking just around the corner.

"Oh, you almost finished it?" You spoke in a bright voice; crouching down beside your kid to admire his good work. Teddy nodded proudly, "Mhm. Look!" and showed you the arrow. Of course, it was far from perfect and couldn't be used as a weapon. The tip was blunt - on purpose. Daryl didn't want Teddy to hurt himself. After all, Teddy was still young and his skills not entirely developed yet. But for that, the arrow was good. His father taught him well, you thought with a smile, like you did so often.

"Wow, that's amazing, baby. I'm proud of you," you smiled warmly at the boy and ruffled his long chestnut brown locks. Your son smiled up at you as well. "Thanks, momma."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you; watching the scene in front of his eyes - which reminded you why you actually called your son...

"Teddy, could you go and check on the rabbit traps? I have to talk to daddy." He nodded, "Okay." and hopped from the log, before he carefully placed the arrow on it. "Take Dog with you and be careful, yes?" "Sure, momma. Dog, c'mon." Dog lifted his head and immediately jumped to his feet and fallowed his best friend.

You could still feel your husband's eyes on you, but this time you could tell that he was a bit confused.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened up again and made your way over to Daryl, who continued his work, now that you were on your way to him anyway. It had gotten colder, yes - even for Daryl, who had switched to wearing sweatshirts and long-sleeved shirts instead of t-shirts and shirts turned to tops with the sleeves ripped off. With a small grunt, he lunged out and precisely split the wood in two with his axe. You would've lied, if you said that this wasn't sexy in some kind of way. But now was not the time to ogle your man... You had something important to discuss...

"Daryl? Can we talk?"

Your husband looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion, but nodded. "Sure." He snuffled and placed the axe aside. "Do I have ta be worried?" You swallowed and looked down; fingers fumbling nervously with your shirt-sleeve. "Honestly? I-I don't know." A deep frown formed on the archer's forehead. Now he was really concerned - and you could see it clearly on his face. After over ten years being a couple, you could read this man like a book.

"Ya don know? Sunshine, wha's that s'pposed ta mean?"

Your eyes darted to Teddy for a short moment; watching him in distance check on the rabbit traps together with Dog. He had grown up so fast... Sure, in a world like this he had to, but you'd have loved to give him a better childhood and youth. Not cruel and full of death and blood. Was this truly something you wanted to bestow on another- "Hey, Y/N..."

Daryl's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; his hands on yours caused you to turn your head to face him again. "Wha's wrong? Talk ta me. Please." You swallowed once again; taking a deep breath. "Daryl, I... I missed two cycles. One happened before, but two..." You could see the gears turning in his head. He blinked; his palms twitching around your hands. "Darlin'... Are you... Are you tryin' to tell me wha' I think yer tryin' to tell me?" You nodded. "Uh.Huh..."

Daryl let go of your hands again and started to pace up and down; fingers scratching his goatee covered chin. You watched him for a few moments; giving him some time to process this - until you couldn't take the silence anymore. "D-Daryl? Say somethin', please..."

Your husband stopped dead in his movements for a moment, before he almost hastily started to search his things together. Crossbow, vest, map.

You frowned; now utterly confused. "Daryl?" He strapped on his crossbow, "'M goin' out; find a pharmacy and get a test." and smiled at you. Truly smiled. The first smile in months - hell, even years after Rick's disappearance, which reached his eyes.

You were slightly surprised and taken aback, but you certainly didn't complain. "A-Alright, sure, but now? Sweetie, it's gettin' dark soon..." Daryl was already making his way over to his bike. "Don care. I gotta know, sunshine. Hell, I wanna know." "Uh, okay," you were still rather flabbergasted, as you followed him. "But be careful, yeah? Be safe." The archer leaned slightly to the right, in order to press a quick, but loving kiss against your lips. "'Course, sunshine."

And off he went.

Your eyes fallowed him as long as you could; crossing your arms over your chest as the chilly breeze hit your body.

"Where's daddy goin'?" Teddy appeared beside you; Dog in tow and three rabbits in his hands. You looked down at your little boy; "Just on a small run. He'll be back soon." adjusting the red bandana around his neck. "Let's go inside, huh? It's getting cold."

Your son nodded and followed you inside the cottage.

It had gotten late. By now it was pitch black outside - and raining. Daryl wasn't back yet and so slowly started your worries to creep in. Therefore, you occupied yourself. Made sure everything was walker safe, took care of the rabbits, fed Dog, had dinner and spent some time with Teddy, before you wanted to send him off to bed. But, of course, like always, the nine-year-old refused to sleep. Not until his father was back. You had no other choice but to let him.

Another hour later, you finally heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle. A relieved sigh left your lips, while your son was already storming out of his tiny room and straight towards the door. He had heard it, too.

A few moments later, Daryl stepped inside; bringing a good portion rain, leaves and wind with him. He quickly shut the door, put down his crossbow and shed himself of his wet poncho.

"Daddy!" Teddy sprinted straight into his dad's arms, who lifted him up and hugged him tight. "Hey, bud. Yer not asleep yet?" Daryl looked at you and you silently told him why; Teddy still clinging to him. Daryl understood, of course and walked with his son without further ado to the boy's room, which was right behind your bedroom. For safety reasons, of course. "Good night, baby." Teddy turned to smile tiredly at you; hand tucked neatly into Daryl's. "Nighty night, momma."

While your husband tucked Teddy in, you hung up the wet poncho to dry. Now that Daryl was back from his little run and the worries about his well-being ceased, there was space again for the previous thoughts and fears to come back again. The missed cycles and the possibility of being pregnant. It wasn't like you didn't want to be, no. Actually, it would be a wonderful surprise, but... So much had changed around you since Teddy. The world had changed around you. Being pregnant wasn't that 'easy' anymore...

You didn't even notice that you were totally lost in thoughts, but when a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, you snapped out of the bubble.

"Teddy asleep?" Daryl nodded. "Mhm." You felt the urge to be close to your husband; hoping that this would take your doubts and fears away. So, you leaned into his half embrace and slung your arms around his torso. Daryl immediately got the hint and wrapped you up in a big, protective bear hug.

"You okay?" You heard him ask then; concern swinging within his voice. "Yeah, 's just... You know..." You felt the archer nod against your head. "Let's find out?" "Let's find out."

Daryl handed you three different brands of pregnancy tests with a shrug. "Didn't know which one's good. Ain't ma specialty. Jus' thought 'm bringing them all." You took them. "It's okay, sweetie. Just gonna take all of 'em to be sure."

Said and done. With shaky hands you did what you had to do, before you returned to your husband, who was pacing again up and down the room like a wounded animal.

You placed all three tests upside-down on the little, wooden dining table; taking a deep breath. "How long do we have ta wait?" "Normally 'bout a few minutes," you answered and turned to face him. He nodded. Once more you stepped up close to your man; needing to ask the question which was occupying you since the first thought of pregnancy crossed your mind - even though he already gave you a nonverbal and kinda verbal answer. "Daryl..." You whispered his name; laying your palms on his chest. "Would you... Would you want this? A-Another baby? Would you be... happy 'bout it?"

You felt how one of his arms encircling your waist; the other hand cupping your cheek. "Darlin', I'd be the happiest man on earth. After all the things which happened..." He paused for a moment; swallowing hard - and you knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. I'd be happy." You smiled softly; rubbing his pecks gently. "Truly?" Daryl nodded, but could definitely see in your eyes how troubled you were. "Yes. 'M not gonna... do the things I did ten years back. I promise." You shook your head. "'S not what I'm worried about, Daryl... I... The world has changed around us. Being pregnant is not that 'easy' anymore..."

The archer chew on his bottom lip; listening to your every word, before he nodded again. "I know whatcha mean, sunshine. 'S nothing easy in this world anymore, but we got each other. We'll make this work, 'cause we both want tis, right?"

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you smiled. "Yes."

Your husband reciprocated your smile and hugged you tightly; reassuring.

"Let's take a look, eh?" He whispered then; slowly letting go of you. You nodded, "Let's take a look." and took Daryl's hand in yours; gently pulling him over to the small dining table. You stared at the three plastic sticks; nervosity still coursing through your veins. "D-Daryl, can you...?" He squeezed your hand and stepped closer to the table. His eyes met yours as he nodded.

You swallowed hard and took a step back; watching how his calloused fingers danced over the tests. Daryl lifted all of them up and slowly turned them in his hands; eyes focused. "A-And?" He didn't answer you; just kept on staring. "Daryl!"

At the call of his name, he finally looked up; one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen him smile stretched over his whole face. "Well... Looks like we're gonna have 'nother baby, sunshine."

You blinked; needing a moment to process his words. "They... They're positive?" Your husband nodded; still smiling broadly. "All three of 'em?" Another nod. "Yeah," Daryl stated and turned them for you to see. And indeed... They were clearly positive.

"Oh my gosh..." You clapped your hand over your mouth; tears immediately blurring your vision. Yet you saw Daryl placing the tests aside again and stepping up to you; his hands finding their way around your waist. He pressed his forehead against yours. "'M happy about this, sunshine. I truly am. This is wonderful," he said in a low voice; holding on to you. "We got this, yeah?" You nodded; happy tears rolling down your cheeks as your hands clasped gently onto the lapels of Daryl's vest. "Yeah."

Both, you and Daryl enjoyed this little moment you had together; relishing in the joy of the news.

You started to giggle; taking Daryl a bit by surprise. "Teddy's gonna be over the moon 'bout this." Your husband agreed. "Hell yeah. He 'n Dog are gonna be the best big brothers." You giggled once again; the cutest scenarios already forming in your mind. "Oh, I'm convinced by that."

Tags: @celtic-crossbow @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @wolfsmom1

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fan fiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon smut #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fic

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youryanderedaddy · 10 months ago

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tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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Howling Moon (werewolf!bucky)

Summary: you find out Bucky's a werewolf.

WC:920ish

Warnings: angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, werewolf!bucky

Read on Ao3!

The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant howls, the moon casting a silvery glow that turned the world into a dreamscape. You always loved the woods, but tonight felt different—charged with an energy you couldn't quite place.

As you walked deeper, your thoughts drifted to him. Bucky Barnes. The quiet guy from town, whose brooding demeanor held secrets you yearned to uncover. Rumors swirled about him, whispers of something otherworldly. Yet, the mystery only drew you closer.

Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the trees, making you pause. You felt a rush of adrenaline, but it was swiftly replaced by a comforting presence. There was Bucky, emerging from the shadows, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Hey,” you said, heart racing. “What are you doing out here?”

He stepped closer, the tension palpable. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I needed to think,” you replied, searching his gaze for answers. “I’ve been hearing... stories. There’s wolves around these parts, or so I’ve heard. Been wondering what they look like, how they attack their prey. Or if they even exist in these lands.”

“It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself,” he titled his head to the left as he looked at you. “I think you should go back to the village.”

You thought it strange how he ignored your statement. “Bucky, why are you-” you cut off as a howl echoed through the woods surrounding you. Just as you turned around to gaze into the thicket of trees, you felt a searing pain in your shoulder as sharp canines sank into your skin.

The next morning, you were laid up in your own bed at home, covered under your duvet, warm from the night. You’d laid there for a moment, thinking about the night previous, yet, you could hardly remember much. Didn’t i meet with someone?

Just then, you heard a knock on your doorframe and glanced up, seeing your best friend, Bucky, leaning against he doorframe, looking absolutely exhausted. His hair unkempt, his exposed arms covered in bruises. What the hell happened?

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, unnaturally nervous, eyeing you with caution and concern. “You were out cold when I found you out in the forest.”

“Bucky, i had the strangest dream,” you whispered, sitting up against your headboard and beckoning him inside the room.

He tensed for a moment before walking over to you, his body stiff as you reached out to him, tracing your fingers along the random scratches and bruises he’d acquired the night before.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, though his focus didn’t seem to be on you.

“Do you think werewolves exist in the forest?” you asked quietly, as though speaking louder would attract unwanted wolves to barge into your small cottage.

“Anything’s possible, sweetheart,” he frowned. You didn’t miss the worried looks he threw at you as his eyes finally grazed down your body. He knew what he’d done last night. And he damn sure knew you would shout to the villagers of his disease.

“I had a dream - you were there- and-” you coughed out for a moment, grabbing at your midriff as pain shot up from one of the many injuries you had splattered across your body. “- and then everything went black and I woke up.”

“I-” he started, afraid to admit anything to you, afraid that you would hate him for hurting you.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” you whispered, acknowledging his behavior. “One of those monsters that keep attacking the villagers every month? Bucky, how? How could i have been so foolish as to not figure this out sooner?”

He flinched as though you had gone to strike him in the face.

“Bucky, tell me.”

“You already know the truth,” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat as he pulled away from your touch, standing in the far corner of the room. “I wanted you time and time again not to frolic through the woods late at night. I warned you of the dangers of it.”

“I’m not going to run and tell the town crier, if that’s what you think of me, Bucky,” you frowned. The way he kept flinching as you spoke broke your heart.

"I just need you to be okay," you patted the empty space he'd just vacated. "Come here."

"You were never supposed to know."

Your heart ached for him, the weight of his past hanging heavy in the air as he returned back to the bed. “You’re not a monster, Bucky. You’re still you.”

His eyes met yours, searching, as if he was trying to determine whether you could handle the truth. “What if I can’t control it? What if I hurt someone else? What if I kill you?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He let out a shaky breath, tension easing just a fraction. “You’re brave, you know that?”

“Maybe just stubborn,” you replied with a small smile, hoping to lighten the moment. “Or maybe I just see the real you.”

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, eyes surveying the damage he'd done to you. He let out a soft whimper as he finally assessed the damage he caused, partially large bruise across your shoulder into your collarbone.

Without saying anything else, you removed the duvet from your body and leaned forward, pulling him in for a deep hug. "I will always care about you, Bucky."

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

#bucky x reader #bucky thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

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yuellii · 1 year ago

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02. / Fate : SACRIFICE

werewolf wriothesley / gn reader . completely sfw . tw gore

Fontaine : DARK BLOOD ; supernatural series m.list

"Good day, Mr. Wolf."

The scent of fresh bread through the trees; he inhales the delight that steams from the linens of your wooden basket.

"Good day," says he. A forest predator, so misbehaved with the size of his body that he immediately encroaches your personal space without proper permission. But what's different about your presence, he notes, is that you don't seem to mind. There was significant lack of fear for the claws on his fingers and the fangs of his teeth, most desirably. "You seem to be out all alone again," he muses, and it's his voice that contains the low, smirking growl of an animal. "Running a delivery?"

Your simple smile is all but sinister, just as polite as it always is during these past few months you've come to pass through these woods. "To my grandmother, as usual."

His nose leads him downwards towards your hands, a scent so sweet secreting from your basket of goods.

"And what have you brought this time?" His words are slowly slurred together, low rumbles pleasantly charming with the pop out of his canines between his lips. His hand slowly lifts your wrists with the basket as the length of his nails feel cold against your skin. "It smells so sweet," he almost drools with the lick of his lips. "I'm already delighted."

You seem to hesitate. And when you reluctantly open your basket for him, he sees why. "No sweets today, good sir..." Your shifting eyes gesture to the bare loafs of bread in the basket. "No sugar. Just plain sourdough, plain wheat," you list onwards, and the wolf can't help but notice how nervous you suddenly grow; he notes this is the first you've actually shown such a physical uncomfortableness before. You shift to grab your other arm, and that's when he sees it.

"What's this?" Without warning, he dives to grasp your other arm tightly, forcing a threatened gasp from your throat. And suddenly, the sweet scent grows stronger tenfold—he catches himself before he might begin salivating. There it is: a bandage wrapped around a fresh wound at the front of your palm. Still stained red, a bright and delightfully wet color.

"Oh!" you stutter, painfully retracting your arm from the iron grip of his hold. "It was just a small mishap," you laugh sheepishly, "nothing to worry about."

He finds a lack of worry within himself for the intention you specified. No, the worry he felt was from the trickling trails of his own saliva pooling by his lower teeth; A worry that he might've just devoured you—you, and the scent of your flesh that was so sickeningly enticing, he feels his body jolt in excitement of a meal. An animalistic instinct that leaves him drunk-dazed from the mere tease of your taste. He can't ignore how delightful the sudden mental image is—of sinking his teeth into that wound of yours.

“Wriothesley?” you voice out, and he feels his stomach lunge to his throat as the scent becomes stronger once more, only to find your wounded hand placed atop his forehead. Wet. He was sweating. “Are you alright? Do you have a fever?”

Flustered, he clears his throat. "You should clean that wound of yours a bit more thoroughly." So curiously to your notice, his eyes flicker to the side—anywhere but you. “And you might want to start running along now, don’t keep your grandmother waiting,” he further advises, “before it gets too dark.”

Before you can sound out another word, he flees off into the lonesome woods.

Garden shears, so clean and so pristine: a heavy contrast to the dark shadows as he loomed over the flowerbed. “This is a lovely little cottage,” he remarks. “And the tea your grandmother serves is quite good, too.”

“See?” you laugh wholeheartedly, hands clamping around rubber to cut lingering wilted roses away with sterling silver. Both your gazes cast downwards, and there was a stream of unwanted thoughts clouding his head. “I told you, she wouldn’t be scared of you.” The reassurance spills easy from your mouth, and he can only force himself to respond positively through a hum.

He jokes, “Does that mean I’m accepted into the family?”

You playfully bump his arm, and that’s when it happens—that smell, once again. Much more powerful this time, like the smell of freshly cut meat that was so overpowering, still raw with trickling blood that his tongue just yearns to wrap around. So sickening, he could feel the insides of his stomach writhe and clench just for a bite. And when he looks down just to see that you’ve accidentally cut yourself with the gardening shears, his instincts as a wolf almost collapses his sense of stability.

Your skin. It looks delicious running with blood. The feeling of his teeth ripping you apart into pieces is just within reach. His mouth feels dry in a way it craves for your flavor, and he does not realize he’s already grabbed you until the scent is so overpoweringly close that his saliva trickled down at the bottom of his chin.

A creature so disgustingly hungry for meat; he only snaps out of his daze when sounds of whimpers and fear emit from your body.

And yet, he can’t help but feel even more enticed. The sounds of your squeals, the fear woven into your features—he feels more starved by your horror-stricken expression to devour your body whole in a single bite.

“Wriothesley…” you choke out to him. The shakiness in your voice holds a fear you’ve never shown for him before, but perhaps fear was how it should be between a human and a wolf. “That really hurts,” you stuttered to him, “Please, let me go.”

He’s trembling. He, the big bad scary wolf, was trembling in place as he was merely moments away from devouring you. Your arm was now littered in new cuts, all from his nails digging deep into the skin of your arm to rip several more wounds. Above the cut from the shears, and his breathing blew right to your wrist. Had he let go, the limbs of your very soul would have been shredded between his teeth by now.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice a low whisper through seethed canines; and through your horrified tears, you see his eyes are pleading, begging you like a chained dog running feral on disobedience. “Please.” His other hand reaches down to meet yours—clutching desperately the gardening shears in your hand. Silver, completely poisonously deadly to werewolves. “Please, kill me.”

You stay silent, completely stunned to move in his grasp. Not when his nails still gashed holes of crescents into your arm.

“Please,” he further prayed, his mutters close to something of a growl as his lips were shaking, even as they leaned in to kiss the bleeding gash of your hand. One taste of you, just one. But his lips. They stung. “My mind is twisted. I fear I might suffocate the longer I’m with you.” His grip around the gardening shears is loose and rigid, and yet he holds them right up for you, urging you to take them. He practically pushes it to your chest, pressing the only form of a weapon you may have against him. He repeats, “Save me.”

Please, kill me.

Looking down at you with his mouth against your wound, lips tinted in your own blood that he laps up hungrily with his tongue, you realize this is the first time you really saw him as what he truly was: a feral animal.

“Or else fate will guide me to devour you whole.”

Blood moon, the cottage door is wide open.

“…Grandmother?”

The smell of iron hits your nose so sharply, yet the light sounds of metal rumbling and clothes shuffling were not enough to turn you away. No, your feet did not allow you to make such drastic movements in the suspense of the night, not when one movement may alert the inside presences.

But you find very quickly you do not need such caution. Because when you creek the door open even further…

Moonlight fails to illuminate the glowing eyes at the corner of the room.

But what you see in the darkness of the house was an entanglement of bitten limbs and clothing scattered into a corner pile on the ground, severed like the chew toy meal of a starving dog. And above it all glowed a pair of familiar eyes so wide and bloodshot, rimmed with the red crusted veins and tears of an animal. The filth around his mouth, the heavy breaths he released through the grotesque bits and pieces of breathed bloodied flesh stuck between his teeth. All with no mercy as strings of organs fell from his lips to his chin. So sickening, the smell of his iron breath in the air—and you only look away for a second to gag vomit back down your throat.

There is an animalistic instinct in his eyes that deadlocks you into place, lacking its typical playful compassion and instead showing the layers of insatiable hunger for human flesh. His breathing is still ragged upon his look of shock, like a deer caught in bright lights.

It’s far too late when you notice he’s drooling. Since the moment you stepped in, it was only his cravings that stunned him silent; you were so near now, so close: the final dessert to his meal. You couldn’t kill a man like him. But a monster could consume the likes of you. And it was only a rush of wind until the back of your head slammed down against the bloodstained wood of the floor, his body a heavy weight atop your own.

He was smiling. Smiling so widely that his tongue jutted out to lick his lips just at the sight of you trapped under him. His eyes, looking at you like another scrap of food in the wilderness.

But the first thing you felt before the rip of barred teeth, was indeed the salty droplets of tears that fell atop your skin.

Fontaine : DARK BLOOD ; supernatural series m.list

#🗡️ : Fontaine — DRK BLD #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x gender neutral reader

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siravalondulac · 1 month ago

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redder the cloak | j. snow x fem!oc

summary: a cloak the colour of blood, a beast roaming the woods, and debts needing to be paid

tags: non-con (non graphic, not between main pairing), smut (f/m, size kink, knotting, blood kink), angst, canon-typical violence

word count: 4761

Once upon a time there lived a girl so kind and gentle that everyone loved her if they merely looked upon her. She grew up in a tiny hunter’s village, and was taken good care of by her parents. In turn, she took good care of her grandmother, who lived deep in the darkest parts of the woods. Every few days, the girl would take the dangerous walk to bring the ageing woman food and give her company.

When the girl was young, the grandmother had gifted her a beautiful cloak the colour of blood, and the girl had liked it so much she had refused to take it off. As she grew and therefore outgrew the cloak, the grandmother made her a new one. And she repeated this until the girl had reached womanhood.

The girl was named Cerelle, and her beauty rivalled that of the sun itself.

On her walks through the forest, Cerelle made a friend.

He was her age, and appeared fairly human - if one ignored the elongated canines, claw-like nails, and love for raw meat.

(Once Cerelle found out about that last thing, she made sure to always put aside some of her father's catch for when she met her friend again.)

He had no family and no home. The boy never even left the woods, even though Cerelle tried to get him to come to her village with her. But he remained steadfast, refusing to reveal whence he came from, instead leading all their conversations back to Cerelle.

The boy was named Jon, and he was there every time Cerelle entered the forest.

As the years passed, so did the girl's parents.

It was as peaceful as can be. They had contracted a winter's disease and after a valiant fight had succumbed to the illness.

The funeral was a small affair; the villagers not having much time for anything else in the deep of winter. Cerelle did not shed her cloak even for this occasion.

She was a sight to behold, truly. With her long, golden curls, her white dress paired with the blood red cape, and the frozen tears running down her cheek, few could keep their attention on the ceremony. Many a man’s mind now started to wander.

Cerelle was almost a woman grown now, and without guardians to protect her.

Every three days, Cerelle visited her grandmother.

The Lady Joanna - as she liked to be called by those who were not immediate family - demanded so of her granddaughter. As well as to be brought fresh food on every visit.

The girl had trouble on some days scraping together enough so that her grandmother did not scold her. Especially during winter, when she could not simply grab some fruit from her backyard to bring her.

She had been propositioned by some of the men in the village: food for her grandmother in exchange for her hand in marriage. Cerelle had refused them every time. She did not want to tie herself down, still holding out hope she could one day leave and explore the world her father had told her about.

Of course, she could not do this as long as her grandmother refused to leave her cottage in the middle of the woods.

It was not for a lack of trying. She did, and often. But the reasons for the old lady to stay remained a mystery to the girl, so she failed to convince her grandmother to leave these lands with her.

Jon listened to every word of frustration muttered by her, and remembered it all.

Some time after the girl's parents had passed, a beast started haunting the village and its surrounding woods.

It killed the hunters’ prey and the farmers’ cattle, and one of the men swore on heaven and earth he had almost been eaten by the creature himself. The fact he couldn't keep his story straight on what it had looked like did not lend much credence to his tale.

Cerelle told Jon about what had been happening (as she did with everything else). She admitted she did not feel frightened by the beast - it was likely just a pack of wolves that had migrated to the area - but that she did feel concerned about its existence nonetheless. It had already left scratch marks on one of the men's huts, and what if it entered her house one day?

“Someone told me that my red cloak would appear like blood to the creature, marking me as a target. I mean, he was likely just trying to scare me, but what if there is some truth to it?”

He promised her the beast would never harm her, and she believed him.

The older Cerelle grew, the bolder some of the men grew in their advances.

Benjiamin tried to lock her out of her own house when she returned in the evening one time, as he assumed she would want to stay with him for the night - where he would have gotten her to give up her maidenhead to him, forcing her to marry him. She simply climbed in through the hole in her roof - the one no one had been kind enough to repair for her.

Tristan stole her cat Tommen, saying he would return him once she agreed to marry him. She went over one morning, hit him across the head with a piece of firewood she found in his yard, and took her cat back home.

Ramsay managed to kidnap her and lock her in his basement, threatening her with her grandmother's starvation if she didn't give in to him. She luckily wasn't kept in there for long, her other suitors so appalled by this behaviour that they broke her out. The man received a stern talking-to by the village elders for almost raping her, and Cerelle received a slap across the face by her grandmother for missing a day's delivery.

A week later, the man was found in his bed with his chest ripped apart, and Cerelle couldn't find it in herself to care.

Jon started bringing her flowers one day. They all appeared freshly plucked - even in the midst of winter - and he never brought her the same one two times in a row, but what confused her even more was that they were all of the brightest blue.

“They remind me of your eyes,” he told her sheepishly.

She accepted them all with a smile, storing them in her basket, and later evaded her grandmother's questions about them. Those flowers were for her and for her alone.

Cerelle had tried to get Jon to tell her where he got them from. He showed her much in those woods - fairies hiding in trees, leaves that glowed in the dark, a beautiful meadow where they had spent the odd evening together. But never where he got those flowers from.

“That would break the magic, wouldn't it?”

He told her this every time, and she supposed she agreed with him.

Some time during spring a hedge knight came across their village.

He was housed and fed, and told them of his adventures in return. Of riding in tourneys before kings and queens, of sailing across the seas, of meeting more people in one day than she had met in her entire life.

Few of the people in the village actually paid attention to his words, but Cerelle did - which the knight noticed. She started questioning him about everything he had experienced, wanting to learn more about the lands beyond her forest. He obliged gladly, smirking at her curiosity.

The day the knight left their village, he asked her if she wanted to join him on his further travels, as he had seen that she was destined for things beyond her little life.

She almost said yes, especially after she saw her suitors standing in the distance. But she declined. For her grandmother’s sake, she tried to convince herself, even though she knew the truth in her heart.

Cerelle cried into her blood red cloak that night, and mourned the life she could have had.

Despite how miserable she was, walking through the forest with Jon always brought her mood up.

She didn't know why she felt that way. She had never even entertained the idea of getting entangled with a man, even less so getting married to one, yet every time she looked into those dark grey eyes she never wanted to be parted from them.

It certainly wasn't love what she was feeling. If that were the case, she would have felt something similar at least once in her life before. No, her and Jon were friends. Just friends.

It could never be love, she told herself at night before going to sleep, because she knew nothing about where Jon was from. And you could never be in love with someone without meeting their family.

He had never met hers either.

At least he knew where they lived.

Cerelle was not in love with Jon, and that was what she repeated in her mind as she brought herself to completion at the thought of him.

Her grandmother once asked her when she was getting married.

Cerelle had tried changing the topic, to get her to talk about anything else - the harvest, the weather, even the beast that had only increased its attacks in the past year - but the old woman wouldn’t let it go.

She droned on about how important it was that her granddaughter was taken care of and that someone with her beauty had no right still being unmarried. Talking about all of her prospects in the village, even though someone like her should settle for nothing less than the future chief.

“But he’s awful,” she said quietly, stirring the pot of soup before her.

“That is of no importance. Why do you think I gave you that cloak? Certainly not to stay hidden in the shadows, my dear.”

She almost threw up at that.

At one point, Cerelle almost told her grandmother of Jon, of how he touched her hands, how her heart skipped a beat whenever he silently appeared next to her, how she wished for nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms. But she knew she could never, ever mention him to her.

If the Lady Joanna found out her precious granddaughter had fallen for a lone wolf, only the gods knew what she would do to her.

Instead, she accidentally let slip that the men of the village would likely prefer she marry all of them, that way they could all fuck her at least once without any repercussion from the village elders.

And though she hadn’t used that word in front of her grandmother, she certainly did.

Not only did the old woman slap her in annoyance that her granddaughter had all these opportunities and took none of them, she started a long and embarrassing ramble about a wife’s duties in bed.

She quickly tuned her grandmother out, and instead wondered if Jon had any experience pleasuring women.

One day, Cerelle returned to the village to find her hut aflame.

She knew, of course, that this didn't occur naturally, but it didn't stop her from crying out in fear. Everything she had - everything that had been left to her by her parents - had been inside that hut. And now it would all be gone.

She called out for her cat, and when he didn't come, she dropped her basket with Jon's flowers inside and ran for the hut.

Before she could cross into her yard, however, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her middle, pressing her back against a male body.

“I guess you have nowhere left to hide, princess,” Euron whispered in her ear. “Come with me, and I'll take good care of you.”

She kicked him in his balls and punched him across the face before running into the burning building.

Her cat was cowering in an as-of-yet untouched corner, crying out for her, scared but unharmed. She quickly grabbed him, unable to keep her tears contained, and hurried outside.

She was covered in ash as she stood before the village, everyone staring at her in anticipation. After all, she had to choose one of them now - unless she wanted to die of frostbite in the winter woods.

Silently, she walked past all of them, sinking down against a tree at the forest's edge.

Cerelle pressed her trembling cat against her, and wept.

Euron wasn't the chief, nor the chief's son. He was… well, Euron. Maniac, disturbing, and deeply devoted to some ancient religion he refused to explain.

For some reason, the village elders listened to him, so when he, after watching the ridiculous betrothal attempts from afar her entire life, stepped forward and demanded her as his wife, they immediately agreed. She had no say in the matter.

He forced her into his hut and into his bed, not giving her even a moment to comprehend what was happening to her. Nor did he allow her to take off her blood red cloak.

Euron was the one who visited her grandmother for a week, locking her behind shut windows and a barred door. He took more food to her than Cerelle had been able to find in half a year. Dowry, he called it.

He had wanted to know what he must do to be let in. When she tried brushing him off, saying her grandmother would trust him upon knocking, he had grabbed her throat and demanded the exact words she said before entering.

“Cerelle, who brings food aplenty. Grandmother, please, allow me entry.”

One of those nights, when she laid beside him, he started feeling her up. Letting his hand wander underneath her dress and up her leg. She grabbed his arm before he could reach her cunt.

“You are not allowed to touch me until our wedding.”

“I am not allowed to fuck you until our wedding. The elders never said anything about touching.” He easily wrestled out of her grip. “Besides, I want to know what I won.”

That night, as he buried his fingers inside her, she wondered what Jon was doing. He had no idea where she was, nor what had happened to her. Perhaps he had already forgotten about her.

She came with Jon's name on her lips, and afterwards hid in a cupboard as if she were a child.

Cerelle asked Euron after a week of being locked inside when she was allowed to visit her grandmother again. She didn't want to see the old woman again, but it seemed like the only excuse good enough to get her out.

“And risk you running away? You know I cannot do that, princess.”

Princess. She didn't know what in the seven hells got him the idea to call her that, but every time he did a shiver ran down her back.

She tried to convince him, coming very close to begging at several points, but nothing seemed to work.

At least not until he spread his legs on the chair he was sitting in, grinning widely, and told her he would let her go this once if she pleasured him.

Everything seemed more appealing in this moment - including having every man in the entire village have a turn at her - but with the way he looked at her it seemed like the only way to see Jon again.

One final time before her wedding.

She sucked his dick, wondering if Jon would have been equally as rough with her, and threw up behind the hut afterwards.

After the fire, when she had been dragged to Euron's hut, she hadn't been able to grab her basket, losing it and the blue flower within for what she assumed to be forever.

But it was alright. She had found a smaller one, and filled it with whatever she could grab, including a piece of meat she put right at the top. It was bigger than what she usually took with her, as an apology.

Euron had pressed her against him before she left, nose buried in her golden curls.

“I will get you the beast's hide as a wedding gift.”

She assumed it had killed some of his birds, otherwise she couldn't explain his sudden obsession with the creature.

The beast had ramped up its carnage over the last few weeks, apparently not halting before humans again. The villagers were frightened, many having thought Ramsay was the exception, yet Aegon had been the next to have his chest ripped apart.

She set off without fear in her heart, and hoped Euron would be next.

Winter had set in in full during her imprisonment.

Cerelle did not mind. In fact, she quite welcomed the cold seeping through her clothing and directly to her bones. It numbed the pain in her jaw.

The snow had been falling for days now, meaning she had to trudge through quite the masses. Adding to this was that she had only set off at midday, and she knew this would become an even more miserable day than it already had been.

Jon hadn't shown up when she entered the forest, but it only concerned her for a moment. It perhaps just wasn't a day they usually walked together.

Cerelle knew what she wanted to do when he appeared. First, she would kiss him and finally find out what his lips tasted like.

Then she would tell him what had happened to her, and beg him to run away with her. It was winter, she wouldn't survive alone, but with him and his inhuman senses she could. They both could.

Of course, she could only tell him of her dreams if he showed up. Which he would, she was sure. He always did. They cared about each other, why would he suddenly abandon her?

She walked against the increasing snowfall, and refused to let the tears fall.

It was already dark when Cerelle arrived at her grandmother's hut. Alone.

A single candle shone through one of the windows. The old woman likely was already getting ready for bed and would not want her around for long. All the better. That way she could head back sooner. Back into her betrothed's bed.

Jon had likely moved on already. His outrage at all her previous suitors’ antics was just to make her feel better. Besides, if he had truly liked her, he would have explained the magic in his blood.

Cerelle knew she would be questioned by her grandmother about her pending marriage. The old woman would base her questions on whatever Euron had told her - if he had actually visited her - and barely listen to whatever her granddaughter would say.

Thick snowflakes fell all around her as she lifted her hand up to the door and knocked.

A voice called from the inside. “Who goes there?”

“Cerelle, who brings food aplenty. Grandmother, please, allow me entry.”

The door swung open at her words. She stepped inside, looking around expectantly for her grandmother to appear from somewhere. Usually, she would sit on her chair by the fireplace, immediately starting a lecture about whatever thing she disliked about Cerelle that day. But the old woman remained hidden.

“Grandmother?”

Food stacked in the kitchen. The burning candle stick had almost disappeared. A strange smell lay over the entire hut.

She hesitantly walked through the room towards a red curtain, lined with gold. Behind it lay her grandmother's bed - which she would be sleeping in, safe and soundly, and then complain about being woken.

With a shaking hand, Cerelle pulled it aside.

Before her lay her grandmother, chest ripped apart, blood soaking the bed underneath her. And above her sat a creature, its face dripping, fur covering it from head to toe. Pointed ears grew from beneath its black curls.

The beast looked up - interlocking its dark grey eyes with hers. The fire died.

She dropped her basket, and ran.

Cerelle would never be able to outrun the beast.

That became clear as she stumbled through the forest, fighting against the snowflakes in her face, the growling behind her getting louder and louder.

She should have never left the village. Why hadn't she just married one of the boys falling over himself to have her? It would have never been a happy life, but at least it would have been one.

A howl echoed through the woods.

She broke through the treeline into her meadow, and she knew immediately that this was where she would find her end. How fitting.

Still, she tried to continue running, at least make herself believe that she tried her best. But with the thick layers of snow on the ground slowing her down that delusion crumbled right before her eyes.

Before she was able to even remotely react, the beast had thrown itself at her and brought them both to the ground.

She kicked and punched and screamed as much as she could, but she was no match for its strength. It easily turned her on her back, grabbed her wrists, and pinned her down. In this position, she was forced to look into its eyes - his eyes.

“Cerelle,” Jon said.

There were a thousand things she wanted to scream at him. Instead, a tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, “Why?”

“You don't understand, I had to do it!”

“Only a monster rips open innocent people!”

“Innocent?” He growled. “None of those I killed were innocent. Unless you have been lying to me.”

Her? What did she-

Ramsay, who had kidnapped and tried raping her. Aegon, who had almost killed her because he assumed she was a witch. Benjiamin's sheep. Tristan's cattle.

She had been responsible for it all. It was her fault that the village had been living in fear for years. Perhaps Aegon had been correct in his assumption.

“But my grandmother-”

“-hit you for disobeying her,” he interrupted her. “Forced you to stay here and abandon your dreams. Agreed with Euron's plans on taming you.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You didn't enter the forest and I was scared for you. So I listened in on them, hoping to find out what happened.” He bared his fangs. “I can't even repeat what they were saying.”

Was that why Euron had insisted on visiting her grandmother? So that he could discuss what way of raping her would make her a pliant wife the quickest?

“I knew I had to end them.”

Them. He had said them.

She looked into his eyes - his beautiful, grey eyes that had accompanied her for almost all her life - and she knew the answer.

No one had ever done anything for her, not unless they expected something in return. Yet, here Jon was, staring at her like she was the centre of his universe.

She could only guess as to what he saw right now, kneeling above her. The snowflakes fell on her golden curls, spread around her head, entangled with the blood red cloak beneath her.

His face had inched so close, his hot breath fanning across her cheek. Cerelle's hands were still fixed to the ground by him, but that didn't keep her from making the stupidest decision of her life.

Jon was a beast, the kind of monster her parents had warned her about in their stories. He could tear her apart right now, if he wanted to.

She lifted her head, and pressed her lips to his.

Cerelle had long tried to imagine what being with Jon would feel like. On the snowy ground, in a winter's night, with him being half wolf had never been her ideal first time.

But she would make do. Especially if this was their only chance.

The moment their mouths had touched he had let go of her hands. She took this opportunity to grab his hair, pushing his face closer to hers.

He tasted of blood, and when her tongue entered his mouth and she cut herself on his fangs, her own got added to the mixture. This only seemed to make him go more feral.

Feral was a good word to describe Jon as a whole at the moment. He had started rutting against her as soon as their lips had touched, and once she swung a leg around his hip he sped up his movements. In an effort to take control of their messy kiss he even - accidentally, she supposed - cut her lip, but she did not give in. She began this, their entanglement was her doing.

They started tearing at each other's clothing, claws and nails cutting it and the skin beneath.

His still clothed cock rubbed at her center, and fuck, there was no way he could be this big. Perhaps it was his wolf form. Hopefully not, if what they were continued past sunrise.

She pushed his pants down just enough to free his dick, immediately wrapping her hand around it, tugging once, twice. Jon moaned into her mouth.

He truly was as big as she thought, and thick, and veiny, and oh, she knew she would enjoy this. If it did not rip her apart.

She guided him to her opening, his tip shortly rubbing over her pleasure point making her moan against his jaw. He simply pushed forward, urged on by her boot digging into his back, until he entered her cunt. Jon did not pause even then, forcing his cock deeper and deeper with every quick thrust.

It burned. She was being stretched beyond what she thought possible, and every time she thought he couldn't possibly go deeper, he did. Her walls clamped down hard on the intrusion, leading to her feeling every single bump and vein on his dick.

He finally, finally, was seated fully inside her, his hips pressing against hers and staying still for a short moment. His clawed hand traced the outline of his cock on her stomach, reaching far higher than should be humanly possible.

She opened her eyes, looking up at his. They had become fully black, no sign left of the boy she knew.

Jon answered her stare with one of his own. He grabbed ahold of her hips with his hands, pulled out until only the tip remained, before slamming himself in his entirety back into her.

She screamed out in pain and pleasure, desperately clinging to his shoulders as he started to violently use her cunt.

He attached his mouth to her left tit, sucking and biting in alternation, adding to the intense mix of emotions she already felt.

It all felt so good, and yet she couldn't even put it into words, Jon's never-ending thrusts punching the breath out of her.

She truly started wondering if he had had others before her. He seemingly knew how to perfectly rile her up with every thrust of his hips, every suck of his mouth, every trace of his fingers. And yet he also buried his face in her neck, panting like a confused dog.

A familiar tug started making itself noticeable in her stomach, only worsening as Jon's cock started to repeatedly hit that spot inside of her.

She knew it was over as soon as one of his claws gently grazed her pleasure point, seemingly remembering it from when this all started. Her walls tightened and she let out a loud moan as she came, soaking the ground beneath her in her essence.

Jon had apparently been close as well, because this brought him over the edge in an instance. He was only able to finish his thrust before he flooded her insides with his seed.

Fingers still buried in her sides he stilled above her, both their chests heaving.

Something started swelling at the base of Jon's dick, making her rip her previously closed eyes open in shock. Whatever that thing was, it was locking them together and not allowing any of his essence to escape her.

Jon looked… embarrassed, frankly.

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.”

She raised one of her hands from the ground to his cheek, pulling him down to her and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. He buried his face in her neck again afterwards.

Cerelle stared at the sky above.

It had stopped snowing sometime during their tryst, making space for the stars to show themselves. The constellation of the Pegasus was clear to see during this time of year.

She would figure out where they would go from here, and she knew she would do everything with Jon by her side.

note: if you are intrigued by this fic and cerelle, might i direct you to the story this is inspired by: meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight?

#jon snow x oc #jon snow smut #asoiaf #game of thrones #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fanfic #jon snow #fic: stars above songs below #fairytale retelling

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